The Lost Cause
by QueenVulca
Summary: "There is a fine line between genius and insanity..." But when this line is erased for the brightest witch of her age? What shall await Hermione when she becomes the lost cause? Hermione/Scarecrow, Draco/Astoria, Joker/Harley Quinzel
1. Prologue

**Here's my newest work that took up my time from the ongoing projects. This is a Halloween Special horror work. So please be ready for some gory details, indiscriminate killings, and chaos. This work could not be done without the biggest inspiration from Shuvam who actually motivated this work to be written and Puja who loved the idea and motivated me and edited this for me. Also my thanks to Nautical Paramour and WinchesterGranger for their enthusiasm. This work will be little behind its update schedule as some background research and necessary random crazy thoughts are very much needed.**

 **Now, on with the story! Hope you enjoy it and don't forget to leave behind a review if you feel like.**

 **18/03/17- This is the latest edited chapter. Beta love to Scarlet Dewdrops. Newest chapter under editing.**

* * *

 **Prologue**

7 months ago

A man in his early fifties, wearing uniform white robes emblazoned with a wand crossed with a bone emblem, leaned forward and asked his patient, "Why did you not come sooner for counselling?" Jonathan Satling had been the head Mind Healer of the psychological department of St. Mungo's for more than five years, but he was yet to see a more complex person than the one sitting before him. He knew about Hermione Granger the same way everybody else knew about her; tabloids and an unauthorised biography written by Rita Skeeter, which was released recently. But the person sitting before him, wearing plain blue jeans and even plainer faded red top, was nothing as described in the sources. The moment she entered his office the first thing she did was scan the room with a critical eye with a tensed right hand, presumably the wand hand. Then with a murmured greeting, she took her seat in front of him saying nothing more until he asked her why she was here. Her automated answer of "For a counselling session, as stated in the appointment." did nothing to quell the slowly growing unease in his stomach at her continued presence.

She was a physically healthy, beautiful and accomplished young woman in her late-twenties. According to Daily Prophet, she had amassed a total of over 3.5 million galleons in her Gringotts vault between the lucrative endeavours of the split bounty on He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, the Order of Merlin- Third Class, and her cutthroat law firm that was now lobbying for the rights of magical creatures. Her life was King-size on paper but the person, who still hadn't answered his question yet, had eyes that sparkled with malicious intent even as the sharp mind behind them barely kept itself from falling into the abyss of insanity.

He wondered how long that sorrow could hold her back from giving into insanity. From his guess, not long. It might even push her further off the edge. _Merlin, Morgana and Mordred help this witch regain herself again._ _The world will go to hell in a handbasket if she becomes the next Bellatrix Lestrange._ She should have been counselled right after the battle. After all, she was only eighteen when she had endured the Cruciatus for almost an hour. _Poor, poor girl. Merlin, give me the strength to help her._

So lost in his thoughts was Jonathan, that he didn't realise Hermione _still_ hadn't answered yet.

Hermione obviously didn't reply immediately. There was a time when she really did try and answered all the questions posed to her, but now it just seemed like a chore to open her mouth, tire her tongue and throat to find the most polite way to let someone down. Experience has taught her that explaining something to someone with an IQ less than 100 is nothing but a waste of the time spent speaking. Yet, cumbersome social etiquette suggested that she answer the man before her. Unfortunately, he was so busy with pitying her that he missed the snarl forming on her face. As soon as he paid her attention, she smoothed her face to a mask of polite indifference.

Hermione pursed her lips as her eyes flickered from one calming painting to another. Not bothering to look at the boring man, she knew he'd be no help as soon as she saw his first real reaction to her. The art was infinitely more interesting, but with a petulant sigh she went along with the game and answered his query. "Well… I didn't want to come. An old mentor requested that I attend a session."

"So, you haven't ever felt the need for counselling? A mental healing?" the Healer asked with a frown tugging at the corners of his lips.

Hermione couldn't keep the scowl off her face as she answered sharply, "I have a law firm to run, Mr Satling. I do not have the time to coddle myself with fanciful _'mind healing'_." Her contempt showing clearly as she said those last two words with a fanciful wave of her hands.

"Have you never taken mind healing after suffering a Crucio?" he asked in the softest manner.

Hermione snapped back rudely, "In how many different ways do I need to tell you no?"

Jonathan gave a nervous laugh and sat back in his chair, "So, would you like to recount to me what your feelings were after the battle was over?"

"Relief." Short, simple, and actually honest.

"And?" When she only shrugged in response, he pressed for further information, "What about a few months after the battle?"

She heaved a put-upon sigh and boredly told him, "Stress. I had to sit for my N.E.W.T.S."

"I really hoped I wouldn't have to beat about the bush. Please, let's cut to the chase. What was your mental state after suffering the Cruciatus? I know the side-effects of the curse do not begin until complete physical health is gained, which is when the curse starts affecting the victim again. I want to know about that." On seeing Hermione's downcast face, he started again, "I really did not mean to be so abrupt, but I know what that curse does. I want to help you. So, please tell me. Talking about the problem is the first step to recovery."

"Are you sure?" Hermione asked in the meekest voice.

"Of course. That is why I am here."

Hermione began speaking, "What they don't understand is that the curse doesn't only recreate the sensation of pain on your nerve tissue, but also it recreates pain in your mind. It is a torture curse for both body and mind. The physical pain I could and did stand. It was the mental pain that was driving me mental. Ironic, eh?"

 _The pain was terrible, yes, but what terrified me was that during the time I was writhing with pain under that curse was that the mental torture formed in the shape of my most traumatic emotional encounters were brought back to haunt me. Things I thought were forgiven or at the very least forgotten. They were in the past, but all of a sudden I was reliving every horrible moment all over again._

 _"'No one asked your opinion, you filthy little mudblood.' sneered Draco at a girl of eleven who was oblivious to the ingrained prejudice of this society._

 _'I see no difference.' said Snape, indifferent to a hexed child's humiliation and pain._

' _It's no wonder she hasn't got any friends!' A pride-wounded peacocking Ron scoffed, not knowing she was right behind them. That stab of emptiness, knowing she'd been so excited to meet people like her and maybe… just_ maybe _finally make a friend that didn't get scared off the first time something weird happened around her._

 _'Sit down, you silly little girl, and don't talk about things you don't understand.' Rita Skeeter told me. Later, she painted me as a scarlet woman. I had laughed it off then, but you can't escape the pain at being slandered in such a public manner."_

Hermione scoffed and sarcastically continued, "Oh… who can forget the hate mails? And the one filled with bubotuber pus. And Molly's disdain _clearly_ showed in the gift of a howler that she ever-so-graciously sent me. I would have never believed it had I not seen it myself that a mother of seven children could be so narrow-minded and have such a shrivelled heart. Would it make me a sadist if I confess that I felt my heart get lighter when I saw her cry silent tears when Percy broke off from the family? And the calm I felt on seeing her world fall apart when Fred died. Not that I wanted him to die, but seeing her face… Was it wrong of me to rejoice at her pain? Was justice delivered to that fat broodmare when Ginny was cursed by Bellatrix? Pity…the woman who prided herself on family couldn't even get her wand up to kill Bellatrix when the opportunity of vengeance was provided."

"And the icing on the cake that was my teenage years was my unfailingly supportive friends. My date with a famous Quidditch player was 'fraternising with the enemy'. Me defending my best friend from a gift sent by a suspicious source resulted in a fall out in third year." Hermione frowned in thought and added, "Come to think of it, most of the fallouts between Harry and myself happened because Ron made Harry chose a side during an argument and ten points to anyone who can tell me whose side wasn't chosen." She raised her hand as if she'd been back in the classroom, waving it side to side with a mockery of excited smile pasted on her face.

Her expression smoothed again and she drummed her fingers on the arm of her chair, "Harry always chose Ron over me. In the fourth year when Ron accused Harry of being an attention seeker, _I_ was one supporting Harry. But as soon as he succeeded the first task, Ron was forgiven for the _misunderstanding_ , and all the water was under the bridge. It didn't matter at all that Ron knew about the dragons and didn't bother telling Harry. Ron leaves us and runs away in the middle of the Horcrux hunt, what does he get? Best Man at Harry's wedding. And Hermione, who stuck around through thick and thin, what about her? An invitation _four days_ before the wedding." Hermione's eye twitched slightly as she recalled overhearing Ginny say one day, _'She's just a guest after all.'_ Just a guest.

Moving on to prevent another snarl distorting her mouth she continued to talk, "When I approached Gringotts for a loan for my firm, I was shown the door because I was a thief and a liar. But Harry and Ron? The Ministry pressured the Goblins to roll out the carpet for _them_ ; they are saviours of the Wizarding world."

* * *

Injustice? Bigotry? Chauvinism? Definitely. Harry got Order of Merlin, First class. He deserved it. He nearly died killing that bastard. Hell, he _did_ die. Ron got Second Class; he was the faithful friend and ally who _never gave up._ I got Third Class because silly muggle born girls do **not** get Order of Merlins of the higher degrees. They're for the true magic user. Ginny again saying ' _Thank your lucky stars that you_ _got_ _an Order of Merlin'._

* * *

Draco partnered with me for the firm as penance for whatever wrongs he had done me, I suppose. I turned up with him to the Ministry Ball and got labelled as a mudblood whore by Ron. That was fun. Harry stood beside him, his eyes on the floor and face red with embarrassment, arms around his new wife, Ginny Potter. He didn't bother to speak a word in my defense against him.

* * *

Past relationships? Well…I was Ron's girlfriend when I was working to build my firm, as we thought we had a moment during the battle. I had planned out a delicate balance of time between my work and our dates, but Ron wanted more and more and I just couldn't dedicate so much time away the firm to that boy in a man's body. So when I chose my work I became the prude, the selfish lover. Hah! As if. My love life was nothing. My work became my husband, lover and admirer. I worked day and night to build it, and with Draco's help we brought it to the position it is now. Draco and I decided to be with each other for a while. No strings attached, you see, so it worked for both of us. He taught me how to be ruthless and never feel bad for wanting something. To be cold yet have an inferno burning inside me. Had it not been for him, I would have probably gone crazy. He helped me from slipping off the edge into incoherency and utter lunacy. I have some semblance of balance now in my life. And I am very happy he got himself a loving pureblooded bride, Astoria. Not that I care if she's a pureblood. His mother surely does, though.

* * *

No…no jealousy. I am happy. I could never 100% belong to him. Besides, I really like Astoria. She's fun.

* * *

Why in turmoil now? Well… with Draco's upcoming wedding, people have yet again started the sneering and frankly quite repetitive insults and threats, criticizing both me and my work. Then again, another occasion will always turn up and Hermione Granger would be under scrutiny once more. It always comes full circle, and I am tired and pissed off and oh-so-vengeful.

* * *

"What do I want? I want to _snap_. I _want_ to reach my breaking point. I have no going back. I am standing at the cliff. And I just want that one last push. Then I'm free." His patient finished the sentence wistfully and dissolved in a fit of giggles.

Jonathan had never felt such sheer terror since the time when his village had a Dark Mark hovering in the sky. She was an explosion waiting to happen. He simply prayed he was far away - very, very far away - when she exploded. He'd give just about anything for her to leave his office. He would have to immediately call upon the emergency Aurors. As a head, his evaluation of a potential threat would be taken seriously. He hoped that he lived to alert them.

She was conscious of losing herself and she was embracing the oncoming insanity. She knew what was happening, her sharp mind was unscathed by the disturbance but her personality underwent a drastic change right in front of his eyes.

"Do you know I had to use an alias to book an appointment here?" Hermione asked suddenly, "People would have _loved_ this scoop that the law firm owner, mudblood supreme, had to visit a Mind Healer. Think of my-my- hahaha- reputation." She giggled again and put a hand on her chest to steady herself. Her mood changed so quickly he was surprised there wasn't whiplash involved when she asked solemnly, "Does anyone else know I am here?"

He blinked a few times and blurted, "Uh… maybe my assistant." Jonathan hadn't been prepared for the quick change of topic.

"Would you call her in and personally tell her in front me to not disclose my identity?" Hermione asked now sombre.

"Yes, yes sure." He would be glad to have someone else in the room with him for support. Or as a witness.

Hermione had caught the way his left eye twitched when she said she wanted to be free, and noted that his hands shook as he grabbed the Floo powder to make the call.

Looks like it would be the hard way out of here.

Almost immediately, his assistant came in with a phial of calming draught. And to placate Hermione both of them took a seat opposite to her. Personally, Hermione thought that if she were a lesser witch she'd be nervous by them teaming up across from her. But she wasn't a lesser witch; she was Hermione Granger, damn it.

"Look, Hermione. Right now, you need help. And once you calm down, we'll talk about your treatment. Okay?" The doctor was speaking in soothing tones and was acting as if they were trying to calm a cornered wild animal.

Her head tilted to the side slightly as she ruminated over that thought for a moment. _'Maybe that's what I am now. An animal?'_

"Sure," Hermione said offhandedly as she stretched out on the couch comfortably.

As soon as they relaxed and let down their defences, she whipped her wand out and rapidly shot two Stupefy before they could get their own wands out.

Despite the fact they were stunned and couldn't actually hear, she ranted at them, "Listen, my firm is my baby. I wouldn't let you hurt it, would I? I am not stupid. Second, it did fucking _nothing_ talking about my _problem_. Absolutely bloody nothing. First step, my ass. Third, you are a lousy Mind Healer for me but I can't kill you. Yet. It'll be very suspicious and it can be traced back to me. So… Obliviate! Obliviate!"

The door opened but no one came out or got in. It closed on its own again a few moments later.

Jonathan Satling had a very strange day. His assistant took an abrupt leave stating sickness. He knew he'd been alright that morning but he was feeling weirdly nauseous now.

'Must be that damn rare beef roast from the cafeteria. I knew it was undercooked.'

* * *

 **TBC...**


	2. Chapter 1

**18/03/17- As I have said before this story is undergoing a beta make over. So, here's the corrected chapter. Free of errors (as much as possible) and plot paradoxes. I am surprised nobody noticed a big plot paradox. Lucky me. Thanks to Scarlet Dewdrops. She's been a great help. Newest chapter would be updated as soon as I finish editing it. Then it'll go through another round of editing. I thank everybody for their patience with this story. Thank you so much for your kind words and favourites and follows. They never fail to bring a smile on my face. Thank you!  
My love to Puja, my alpha reader, soul sister and partner in crime as well as plunny cultivator, Shuvam who is the reason behind the existence of this story, WinchesterGranger for all her enthusiasm and love. Thanks everybody!**

 **On with the story!**

* * *

 **Present Time**

 **Chapter 1**

Harry Potter - the Boy-Who-Lived-Again, Man-Who-Conquered, whatever you called him - was in a hurry. The Patronus he'd been sent by the present Minister of Magic had been quite panicked. Harry was the Head Auror of his department; not to mention the youngest ever Head Auror. There was little that could scare Harry, but a panicked patronus message from the Minister himself rated some nervousness at least. He'd been kept busy lately with a case; some sort of random killings. In the beginning, it was only the rare abnormal muggle deaths which could easily be chalked off as the work of a demented magical person and were treated as separate cases. But then the frequency of such 'abnormal' deaths started growing. First, it was one or two deaths over three months, now it was straight five deaths in a matter of just one month. Whoever it was, he must have gotten bolder because of the lack of Auror action. Harry couldn't let this go on for a moment longer.

This killer, at first, killed muggles but for some reason used extremely painful magical means. Who knew undiluted bubotuber pus poured inside of a person could create such grotesque corpse. That scene gave Harry nightmares for a week straight. The analyst said the victim was alive when the pus was administered to her, burning that poor woman from the inside from her mouth all the way to her stomach. It was a horrific death, and Harry couldn't help the shiver that ran down his spine. He shook his head to clear it of those horrifying thoughts and made his way to the Minister's office. Kingsley, for lack of a better description, looked haggard. He was tired and one could easily see he was having a rough day.

Kingsley sighed in relief seeing him but spoke gravely, "Harry. Thank you for coming here so promptly. I would have called your deputy for this meeting but the matter just got incredibly sensitive."

"It's alright, Minister. So, what is this about?" Harry asked.

"The random killings that are occurring in both the Wizarding and muggle worlds."

Dread filled Harry. He'd just managed to get his mind off the murders, but now the images of the corpses filled his mind again. He'd have nightmares again tonight, no doubt. "Yes. What about them?"

Kingsley ran a hand down his face in exhaustion, "A murder took place yesterday in the courtroom during an ongoing Wizengamot session."

Harry's mouth dropped open in shock, "In the courtroom? How is that even possible?"

"Read the report," With that Kingsley handed Harry a thin file that had various parchments and photos in it.

It detailed the murder of one Ms Burrage. It said Rita's apprentice was at the court session attending the trial of some minor Death Eater. After the session ended when she made a move to out of the visitor's seating area, people around her found her exposed skin had carvings over them. When she started feeling those carvings appear on her person, it was too late. She had lost too much blood. They found she had been carved all over her body with whatever words her mentor's Quick Quill had written throughout that time. The quill's exaggeration of words and events, unfortunately, was her reason for death. Had it not written so many words, she might have lived. But there were just too many carvings, deep carvings that led to profuse blood loss. Before healers could help her, her heart and magical core failed.

"I know she was a horrible person but I wouldn't have wished such a death on anyone."

Kingsley leant in and pointed to a picture, "We found a muggle book with her. The Cat in the Hat by Dr Seuss."

"And why is that strange?"

"Ms Burrage is a pureblood witch who is not… _was_ not...a muggle born sympathiser. So having a muggle book in her bag is strange."

Harry leant back in his chair and said thoughtfully, "Then the murderer is probably a muggle born."

Kingsley, ever the voice of moderation, cautioned, "Or a pureblood trying to mislead us?"

With a shake of his head, Harry replied, "I doubt it. They'd actually have to go into the muggle world and purchase the books, which means they would have to go to Gringotts and be seen changing the currency and somehow manage to not stick out while shopping for them. It's most likely a muggle born or half blood at most. Someone who wouldn't be looked at twice if they were changing Galleons for muggle money. It's curious, though, why would the killer leave the book? If he can be traced using it..."

Kingsley gave him a wry smile and disabused him of that notion, "Trace locating charms were cast on it with no result." He leaned forward and put his chin in his linked hands, "That's not all. A muggle died today due to excess hair growth. Seems a free trial shower gel that he got made all hair it had contact with grow at such a rate and amount that, from what that healer said, his heart gave out after a few feet of growth. Apparently luscious, thick, and strong hair sucks up a good amount of our body's materials and he had practically no nutrients left to keep his body working."

Mouth turned down in horror, Harry managed to get out, "I don't know what to say."

Nodding in understanding, Kingsley went on, "All the cases of this random killer are giving me a headache that I don't need right now, especially with the elections just around the corner. That's why I am giving you carte blanche on this case. Take every justified action required but nab this killer before there is mass hysteria. You know how the Wizarding people are. At the first sign of trouble, they start forgetting that they have magic at their fingertips. If the Prophet gets wind of the books and puts together that this is a serial killer instead of a string of freak accidents, the people will panic."

"I will do everything in my power to solve this case as soon as possible, Minister."

"I trust you will. Bring Miss Granger on board if you need to. Brightest witch of this era, after all." Kingsley said with a chuckle.

Harry nodded and took his leave from the office; the report of today's killings in the file in his hand, ready to be added to the ever-growing stack building up in his office. He definitely needed Mione's help with this. If someone can find a pattern in all this, then it's Mione.

As he walked down the corridor, he waved his wand to send his stag Patronus to Hermione with a message to meet for lunch today. She was awfully busy these days so he hoped she'd have the time to meet. He understood her obsession, her passion for her firm and her work. Sometimes she needed to let down her hair, but his Hermione never knew when to stop. He gave a small laugh. It had been ages since they'd sat down together for a long chat. Last he saw her was at his wedding. After that he'd been away for his sweet honeymoon with Ginny and when he got back the workload was completely backlogged and he just got swept up from one case to another, then with his first child on his way… it was hard to get together when they were both so busy. He looked forward to lunch today, though he wished it was under better circumstances.

* * *

Her morning seemed ruined when that stag Patronus came galloping into her office demanding a lunch with its caster. She nodded at it. When it dispersed as she took a breath of relief. That patronus seemed to create a pressure against her magic. Her lips curled in a sneer; had it been up to her, she would have ripped it apart with her bare hands. Her hands bent into claws as she imagined her hands tearing it apart. But alas, it is incorporeal. With that her hands relaxed and she wiped off invisible blood that seemed to have spattered on her during her imagined stag-mauling. She gave a small giggle at that thought. Invisible blood. Like that of a spider's. Her giggle was slowly turning into an uncontrollable laugh.

She had been having the most relaxing and invigorating few months. Getting rid of all her demons was a freeing experience. She really does feel free for the first time in her life. No more childhood bullies taunting her about her 'bushy' hair, no more hate mail for being a mudblood getting seen with famous people, no more horrible reporters making up scandals. All are resting in peace. Her demons laid to rest. At that thought, she was laughing out loud. Her happy laugh reverbing in her office. After some moment, Draco poked his head inside her office. "Someone is happy today," he stated in his signature drawl. "Got laid or something?" He smirked at her.

Smiling brightly at her friend she told him, "Naah. Just thinking how I followed Dr Phil's advice and laid my demons to rest." At that, she pointedly looked at Draco, "Get that? Laying demons of the past to rest?" she looked at him, expecting him to understand.

When he shook his head in negation, she exclaimed in good humour, "Irony, boy! Simple irony." She followed it up by shaking her head as if it was a great tragedy.

Draco smirked even more and said, "I just realised how that stupid hat sorted you to Gryffindor. Had you been a Slytherin… my head feels like bursting with all the could-have-beens."

Hermione gave him a giggle to go with the bright smile. But remembering the silvery intruder her smile faded to a frown.

Draco sighed, "What happened?"

"Harry called me for lunch," she told him evenly.

He asked with his trademark sneer, "So the faithful little thing that you are will come when he calls?"

Hermione shrugged, "No harm in going."

He scoffed, "No harm except to your pride, dignity and self-esteem."

"Yeah. That's true. He's in trouble with those deaths and now he commands his faithful dog to his side for help," she said in a deadpan voice.

Draco's expression was stony until a snicker left his mouth and they were laughing at the joke of her helping solve her own case.

"Oh for Merlin's sake, stop this childishness you two. The employees are getting unnerved by your laughter. Probably think the world is ending, hearing you two happy." Astoria said as she angrily strode into Hermione's office to stand beside Draco, hands on her hips and mimicking Hermione's stern you-didn't-do-your-homework stance from a time long gone.

"Can't laugh, Meow. The dictator's orders." Draco said behind a hand in a stage whisper.

"Pfffft. Dictator shmictator. It's your balls in her hands, not mine." She said snickering at Draco who now had an upturned face. She mimicked his nose-in-the-air aristocratic demeanour and told him snottily, " _I_ don't have balls."

Astoria scoffed and scolded them with a toss of her hair to the side, "What am I going to do with you both? You two are worse than children. At least they listen to authority."

Draco and Hermione exchanged looks and immediately laughing like crazy.

"That's it. You gigglers both need coffee. A tall, strong cup of coffee to jolt your brains into sanity. Come on!"

Barely managing to keep their laughs muffled enough so that they didn't echo down the halls, Draco and Hermione followed Astoria to their cafeteria. After taking their coffees and muffins, Draco slid in beside Astoria to wrap an affectionate arm around her waist while Hermione sat across the table from them.

"How's the wedding preparation going, Ash?" Hermione asked.

"What will be said here right now should never leave this place. Deal?" Astoria demanded.

"Deal." Hermione and Draco said in a union and shook hands with Astoria.

"His mother is a monster-in-law. She dominates every conversation; not even the baker for the cake tasting escaped her ruling. I am telling you Draco, if she chooses some flavour that I hate, I am dumping the whole cake on you! Consider yourself warned. It just… it feels like this wedding is about her, her and her. You and me, we're just the puppets she'll play with for the event." She folded her arms said stubbornly, "I am not replying to any of Narcissa's summons anymore."

"If you want, you can try to unleash your rage on someone not-so-important. Like I've said before, it's quite therapeutic," Hermione suggested.

"Just because I support you doing it doesn't mean I can do it, Meow," Astoria replied.

Hermione shrugged nonchalantly and took a deep sip of her coffee.

Draco changed the topic with a look of pure irritation, drumming his fingers on the table as he took a sip of his coffee, "Oh, the reason I came to your office in the first place. I got an owl from your lawyer today. Care to explain why you wrote your will or whatever that shit was?"

Her finger skimmed the edge of her cup lazily as she replied, "With the Aurors finding out about the muggles too, I thought it best if I prepared for the worst case scenario," Hermione finished with a tilt of her head and a raised shoulder in a careless shrug.

"You cannot be so negative, Hermione. You've taken every precaution." Astoria gasped.

"I am just being practical. Harry is assigned this case, and he's practically ordered me to have lunch, most likely to ask me to assist him." She paused while all the three of them gave a small laugh at the situation then continued, "And even if I do mislead him for a while, he's bound to find a pattern in those killings eventually."

Draco sighed defeatedly and told her, "You could have ruled the world with that brain of yours. But damn, I hate it so much some days."

"What a stunningly delivered backhanded compliment," Hermione replied acerbically.

Astoria spoke sternly, "Look, Meow, I don't care if it's logical or practical. You _are_ going to be my maid of honour and you _are_ going to be the godmother to my future children. Don't fall into their clutches," by the end there was a hint of begging in her voice.

Hermione just shrugged again and told them, "I don't plan to. Though… I'm in the mood for some change."

"What change?" Draco asked suspiciously with raised brow.

Hermione was thoughtfully silent for a moment before she replied, "I don't know just yet."

Astoria was a little bothered by that but shrugged it off and asked, "So today's lunch?"

"Is going to be with Harry James Potter. He needs my help, after all." Hermione told her definitively with a smirk.

* * *

Harry was waiting for Hermione in the small bistro that had opened shortly after the war. To be frank, Harry had been waiting for Hermione for a lot longer than usual. The ever-punctual Hermione was almost thirty-five minutes late already. Looking out the window at his table, he finally saw her glide into the bistro.

"Finally… seems like you lost the sense of time. Busy time of the year?" Harry quizzed.

"Quite. Lunch first," Hermione ordered.

After they ordered they filled the silence with inconsequential small talk. Harry could see Hermione was distracted but she answered his queries every time, though a bit shortly. Then Harry turned his curiosity towards her change of Patronus form. It had been a hyena that had come to him with her response instead of her usual playful otter. It had unnerved Harry at first but when he looked up the meaning of having a hyena patronus it became clear to him. Despite the general public's opinion of her, Hermione was the one in charge of anything that she did. The alpha. It was she who led them and it was him who followed and Ron who accompanied him.

Harry broached the topic lightly with a joke, "Mione, your Patronus changed its form. Found someone, eh?"

She hummed dispassionately and corrected him, "More like I found something."

"What would that be?"

"Freedom."

"Freedom?" He always thought his friend was doing what she loved to do the best with her law firm. So why would Hermione talk about freedom? As far as he knew she was not confined.

She ignored his question and asked her own, "What did you call me here for, Harry?"

With a sigh and doing his best to keep the images of the victims out of his mind, he told her, "Okay. I am pretty sure you know about the recent deaths, especially since a few have been reported in the Daily Prophet. I am assigned to that case. And… I need help. I need _your_ help," Harry told her a bit desperately, even if he did try to hide the fact that he was at the end of his rope. Hermione knew him too well for him to try and succeed, though.

Hermione held up a hand to stall any further explanation. "I don't need the whole story, that overview was fine. Serious discussions after lunch. I don't want to upset my appetite," Hermione stated primly.

He blinked a few times. "Oh, sure."

As soon as lunch was finished Harry jumped to the subject and Hermione didn't have to do much convincing to get him to take her to his office where they had dedicated a whole wall to the killings.

"This is definitely muggle inspired," Hermione commented.

"Yeah. It's very efficient." Harry smiled, knowing she'd appreciate any increase of efficiency in the stuffy old Ministry departments.

Hermione simply nodded with a small smile, knowing he was fishing for her approval with that statement. It was surprising though that Aurors had adjusted to a muggle technique. But then again, they might have taken to it just because The-Boy-Who-Lived had introduced it. It was…meticulous. And she said so to Harry, who shuffled his feet and actually seemed a bit shy at the compliment. Looks like the Ron Weasley effect of perpetual laziness and shabbiness had rolled off of him at some point since they'd last met. That made her work easier. Hermione desperately wanted a vacation. As much as she adored her friends, she wanted to become detached from this community. A clean break from the melodrama of Britain's Wizarding world was just what she needed.

"Total of 11 deaths including Skeeter's apprentice that happened yesterday. Some grotesque, some plain, if you can call murder plain, and some really weird," Harry explained.

"Weird how?" Hermione asked detachedly as her eyes flicked from the photos of one victim to another. This was the first time she'd really got to take a look at the end results, after all.

"All these deaths are caused by magical means, but they are not your usual, run of mill means. No AK's, offensive potion or curses or hexes. One man killed due to an overgrowth of teeth inside his mouth. Another man due to overgrowth of hair all over his body. One woman was mauled by a statue that stood guard at a library. All the details of each killing are with the corresponding crime scene photos," Harry informed her, pointing towards the wall.

They spent the majority of their time speculating about the manner in which the deaths took place. Finding the means and weapons of these murders could help them find the killer's motive. Harry had a brain ware on a pattern. He found the killer always left books somewhere at the site of murder. In a bag, on the ground nearby, it wasn't usually hard to find, though in some cases they were so innocuous that you had to know a bit about the person to know it was out of place. Some muggle books, some magical. But that didn't help narrow down the search. 'Except they could hit the bookshops and check if any one person had recently bought all of the books that were found,' thought Harry. He spent the better part of a week going through the records of Flourish and Blotts sales since the killings had started and Hermione absolutely refused to help him check. He always knew Hermione liked books, but for how many times he saw her on the records he guessed that she probably spends half her salary on books! Indulgent bookworm. But other than that… nothing. No one in recent history had bought all of the magical books found at this store, but it was the only one readily available to the local community. He didn't even try to track the muggle books to the bookseller. It'd be impossible. The case had reached a plateau. There was no clue, no progress on the mystery. Even Hermione was at her wit's end. . . .

* * *

Harry knew Hermione had become distant from them- Ron and him. But he decided to remedy the situation. He invited Ron to his and Hermione's routine lunch. Sitting there in that bistro, Harry finally got solid proof of Ron's teaspoon range of emotions; he had brought Lavender along with him. Greeting Hermione and him at the table the lovey dovey icky couple sat across them. Hermione merely nodded her head at both of them and gave a look of disappointment at Harry. Her look was so cold yet filled with some lost sorrow. But the look was gone immediately only to be replaced by usual aloofness.

Forgoing all usual niceties, Lavender asked,"Say, Hermione. How does it feel to be working for Malfoy?"

Hermione informed her factually without betraying a hint of emotion, "Correction. _We_ are the owners of the firm. So, we both work _together_. As equals."

"Yeah. But you are the one who works there right?" Lavender asked again.

Hermione looked over at Harry with a raised brow incredulously before turning back to Lavender and saying slowly, "We both work. I suggest you get your hearing checked at St. Mungo's as you were quite unable to hear what I said."

"Mione, you don't need to snap at her. She's just asking," Ron defended Lavender.

Hermione said icily, "And I am just answering." She turned to Harry and asked with faux boredom, "Hand me the menu card please,"

Harry could feel the palatable tension, so he quickly did as she asked. Lavender was fuming silently at Hermione while Ron rubbed her arms to calm her. But that only aggravated her temper.

Lavender's face heated in embarrassment and her lips curled as she snarled, "You are only burning up inside with jealousy because Won-Won chose me instead of your ugly frizzy beaver mug. And now your snake lover is leaving you for a pureblood girl. Anyone can see why you are so bossy! And ugly! And…" Lavender paused in her rage and took a moment to think of a new insult instead of repeating one again, "And have slurs carved on you! Who can love you? No one!"

"Lavender!" Harry exclaimed in disbelief.

Hermione, the picture of good manners, finished chewing the bite of her starter salad before snapping at the idiot, "Keep your yapping down. I am trying to have my lunch here."

Lavender huffed and drawled, "Yes, of course!" She put her hands on the table and leant forward and said maliciously, "A filthy little mudblood like you can only think about free food. Am I not right, Won-Won?"

Harry was shocked speechless by Lavender's outburst and her shamelessness when she demanded Ron to defend her honour after calling Hermione that word. Ron nodded his head to defend Lavender but as soon as he opened his mouth to say something, he was met with a death glare from Hermione. Something about her expression made Ron go pale, and it made Harry shift uncomfortably in his place. When Lavender reacted angrily her boyfriend's silence, Hermione's glare quelled her too.

As an Auror something about Hermione's fierceness set Harry on the edge. There was something… different behind that glare. It was not Hermione's usual 'you-are-annoying-me-with-your-stupidity' glare. It wasn't even her usual 'you-hurt-my-feelings-so-I'm-going-to-hex-you-with-attacking-birds' glare. Harry had seen malice like that before. But he couldn't, for the life in him, place where. Then the arrival of the entrées distracted him from his line of thought because Hermione took the opportunity to ask for hers to be wrapped up and charmed with a stasis spell to go. When the waiter brought it back, she ignored the couple and wished Harry a good day. Hermione smiled as she walked away. No self-respecting witch would break bread with someone who hated her. Especially since sitting down to a meal with someone implied that no harm would come to them from the other diners.

But that nagging thought would return again to Harry. Much sooner than he would have wanted.

* * *

The case was not getting a single breakthrough. And Hermione had deserted him immediately after the disastrous lunch with Ron and…Lavender. She refused to answer any of his mail or patronus calls. The receptionist at her firm, 'Law and Wand', always said she was unavailable and the security never let him in. It had been three days since that lunch and Harry found himself standing in front of the wall of information. The first death was in muggle London. The first victim died in his sleep. But traces of the nightmare curse were found in his house later when Aurors were sent after a request from the Muggle-Wizarding liaison Head. Second muggle victim had inwards-growing wire-like tough hair. He must have died in extreme agony. Then it started becoming more creative. A muggle woman died of dehydration as water evaporated away inside her mouth. She was starved too as the coroner found no trace of food in her. The woman was thirsty and starving and by the statements of her family it seemed she didn't do it willingly. The family members said the food was turning dust in her mouth and the water evaporated away before going down her throat. Doctors were dumbfounded when later they found the saline drip they gave her was having no effect on her and that the nutrient tube could not give her any food. The doctors helplessly watched her die of dehydration. It was such a shocking news that the whole hospital and everyone who came across that patient had to be Oblivated to save them from exhausting their brains searching for an answer to this strange affliction. Then there was the over grown teeth case and hair growth case. The last was the woman who was mauled by an animated statue of a lion that stood outside a public library. Total of six muggle deaths. Total of six _accounted for_ muggle deaths.

Then there were the wizarding deaths. Umbridge was killed, three months back, in St. Mungo's when a bad batch of pain relief potion administered to her made her pain exponentially worse, and the bubotuber case was a dead witch in her 40s- a pureblood. No one from any type of blood was safe, so it wasn't a purity zealot.

Pansy Parkinson was found dead in Hogsmeade from a failed animagus transformation. She was partially pug and partially human. Some internal organs were pug which didn't support her human body, so she died. That would have been classified as a magical accidental death, had a muggle book Great Expectations by C. Dickens not found next to her. That was the one that had tipped Harry off that this serial killer used books as his calling card. No one would dare accuse Pansy of reading as a hobby.

Cormac McLaggen was found dead earlier this month. His was probably -hopefully- a unique death. He was found in a really shady part of Knockturn Alley. The autopsy of his body revealed he died from…too much sex. His heart failed after so much…er…exhaustion. The working theory is that he must have been under the influence of a very strong lust potion and an equally strong invigorating potion. When their effects wore off, he died of heart failure. It was waved off as accidental death at first too, but Harry's team found another muggle book. This time it was Pride and Prejudice inside his bag that Cormac had with him that time.

And Ms Burrage carved up by her own mentor's quill, this week, which served as a more dangerous Blood Quill with a timer. That quill had written about 10,000 words that day. And those words were inflicted on her during that trial she attended at the end of the day. Unlike the first scratch of a Blood Quill, these wounds looked like deep carvings of a dagger. And the massive immediate blood loss in such a short time killed her. Eleven murders with muggle books as calling cards. Harry knew there were books as calling cards at the site of the muggle murders too. But the muggle police had taken those in as evidence.

Something was not matching up with the motive that he was guessing and the person it was pointing to. He knew Hermione could be vicious at times but vicious enough to murder? No, not his Mione. But then again that look she gave today at the bistro was nagging him again. These killings fit Hermione's profile very snugly. She had a bone to pick with Skeeter after Skeeter wrote a scandalous article in the Daily Prophet about Mione after her break up with Ron. Cormac had, kind of, mistreated her. Pansy was always a bitch to Hermione. But he had no clue as to why Hermione would kill, if she did kill, muggles. Harry found no motive there. If Hermione was out there killing people who have insulted her or humiliated her, then Draco Malfoy would be the one to be found dead first. Instead, he was alive and kicking and quite chummy with Hermione, so he discarded Hermione as his suspect. The Death Eaters were all accounted for and thrown into a new and improved Azkaban.

Then who is the killer?

More importantly, who fit the profile?

* * *

 **TBC...**


	3. Chapter 2

**Here's an early update because I'll be busy with my exam(damn things that they are). Review your views if you like it!**

 **As always :* to Puja and hugs to Shubham for supporting me.**

* * *

 **Chapter 2**

Lavender sighed looking at the special edition of Witch Weekly that featured the wedding of the decade: Draco Malfoy and his beautiful bride, Astoria. It had surpassed Harry and Ginny's wedding in popularity and was quoted as 'the most magical wedding in Britain's Wizarding community'. It was the dream wedding of any bride; the Malfoy garden which was the venue of this wedding was covered in pale pink roses and lovely white roses but there were blossoms of the elusive Death Orchids scattered around the place. There were fairies flitting around and elves in smart tux delivering champagne and canapés. The couple got married under a bower that was covered blooming Blushing Daffodils, Red Poppy, and Orchids of different types. The wedding venue looked like something from a bedtime story. Draco Malfoy looked so smart and handsome in that dark blue robes and so much in love waiting for his bride-to-be. And when Astoria entered to the ballad of sirens, soft red rose petals started falling from the sky. They wrote the music was ethereal and beautifully haunting. What irked Lavender was that there was a page was dedicated saying how Hermione made a lovely maid of honour in her red sundress with a crown of roses on her head and a quirky cat's ears headband and simple make-up which complimented the bride in ivory sweetheart neckline, short train mermaid gown perfectly. As if she was worthy enough. No beauty, no figure to die for, such a plain looking face and yet she had found her Won-Won drooling over that picture.

She huffed and threw the magazine on the floor. Then after a moment, she picked it up and straightened the wrinkled cover. At least she'll have the better deal by drooling at the picture of Draco who looked like a Prince of her dreams. Yes, she loved having her share of fame from Ron's celebrity status by being his girlfriend but which girl in her right mind won't mind ogling Draco and all of his handsomeness. Lavender huffed again remember the day she saw Draco and his wife and Hermione laughing and talking at the poshest restaurant of Diagon Alley having afternoon's tea. As if that Mudblood deserves such company. Just because she had helped Draco during his tough times, Hermione was welcomed else… everyone knows what Malfoy feel about her. Then she sat down in front of her dressing mirror and before she could make out the blur that she spied from the corner of her eyes, her world went black.

* * *

Last thing Lavender knew she was getting ready for her date with Ron. She had worn Chuddley Cannon special orange theme dress just for her Won-Won to support his favourite team. She loved Won-Won so much. She was so depressed when she was scarred by that stupid werewolf. But thank Merlin for that marvellous anti-scar cream Healer Greengrass developed. She was so thankful to Draco Malfoy's sweet fiancée. Now she was blemish free and all ready for Ronnikin.

But she found herself lying on the carpeted floor of her bedroom and her head was throbbing with pain. One moment she was getting ready for her date and she was standing in front of her dresser mirror and the next moment she found herself on her floor. She was blinking rapidly, trying to see in the dark and she tried to sit up when she heard a muted thump.

"Wh-who's there?" Lavender asked, her voice quivering a little in fright.

Broken pieces of wood were thrown at her as an answer. She held them in her hand and she recognised that those were the pieces of her wand and the destroyed core.

"How dare you! My wand!" Lavender cried out as she clutched the wand pieces to herself.

"You survived Greyback. My congratulations. Your inflicted scars got healed, thanks to Astoria. You even bagged Ronald Weasley. Good house witch you would have made. But can you just tell me why the hell you have a problem with me? What have I ever done to you?" a deep woman's voice asked her in a deadpan voice.

"Who the hell are you? Show me your face!"

The house was lit up in light as Lavender demanded. A figure was seated on Lavender's dresser's seat, in front of her, in the black cloak that was hooded over that figure's head. The figure removed her hood to reveal herself as Hermione. But there was something wrong with this Hermione. She had cold eyes that seemed to see right through her and her face lacked emotions. It felt like looking at a creepy dressmaker's dummy like the ones Madam Malkin has in her shop.

"Hermione? What are you doing here?" Lavender asked in a small voice.

"I never came in your way," Hermione continued, not paying attention to Lavender's question. "I could have taken away Ron from you if I wanted. I could have disfigured you even more with Astoria's potion and ointment. I could have done many things. But I didn't. Because you meant nothing to me; a worthless face in a sea of faceless people. But you just had to bring my attention to yourself, didn't you?" Hermione asked her, cocking her head to one side.

"I don't know what you are talking about. Look, I am getting late for my date wit—"

"With Ron. I know. That's why I have to make this trip really short. Nothing elaborate, just plain ol' Transfiguration. I know Ron would love to see the new you. Since you so graciously re-introduced my friends to my heritage yet again, let me gift you the burden that comes with that slur. At all, I owe you at least this much."

"What do you mean?" Lavender started crawling backwards as Hermione got up from the seat and started walking towards her.

"Shut up."

* * *

 _'_ _Lavender was never late for their dates,'_ Ron thought. Sometimes, ten minutes delay occurred due to her zealous effort of dress up but this was the first time she was a glaring one hour late. They had a double date with Harry and Ginny today. Ginny's last outing before she gave birth to little James in five weeks. Ron was already sitting at their table waiting anxiously for Lavender. Today he was going to ask Lavender to be his wife. Ron knew despite being a war hero he would not be able to give her a wedding like that bloody ferret gave that Greengrass girl. Most probably the wedding would be held at the Burrow like Weasleys of every generation have done. He knew her fascination with a society wedding. He knew she wanted her pretty face in a wedding gown on the covers of the Witch Weekly. Again his attention drifted to Lavender's lateness. He could almost feel himself trying to pace the restaurant floor like Hermione does. But today he could feel something was wrong. His instincts were screaming at him. He stood up from his seat and made his way to the door when Harry caught his arm.

"Mate, where are you going?"

"Harry, something bad has happened to Lav-Lav. I can feel it in my guts. Something is really wrong. If she's late, she usually sends me a Patronus. But nothing has come from her yet. I can feel something is wrong."

"Okay. Let me accompany you. I'll send Ginny home and then I'll come with you. You better not go there alone."

"Right. Do it fast. I can't wait any longer."

* * *

When they apparated to Lavender's flat, it was plunged into pitch black darkness. They tried to light up the house but somehow 'Lumos' just didn't work there. It was dead silent and the whole house was exploding with the smell of lavender.

"Find her now!" Harry shouted, slipping into Auror mode immediately.

"On it."

Ron rushed into Lavender's bedroom and stumbled into something lying in the dark. But he didn't pay attention to that. He was focused on the figure lying on the floor looking bloated to the point that felt like it would explode.

Lavender's whole body was swollen. Her skin seemed like it would burst if you someone pricked her. There was some sort of spillage from her mouth and nose.

"Lavender? Lavender? Look I am here. Open your eyes, sweetum," Ron said to a dead Lavender while shaking her softly.

"Lavender. Lavender! Wake up! You can't leave me like this! LAVENDER!" by now Ron was screaming at Lavender's body.

"Ron! Mate, let her go! We need to take—"

"LAVENDER!"

* * *

Ron was admitted to St. Mungo's for treatment. His shock at Lavender's death had jolted him so much that he had to be administered Draught of Peace, Draught of Dreamless Sleep. And yet Ron was tossing and turning in his hospital bed, moaning Lavender's name. Harry's heart filled with guilt and sorrow. He couldn't watch his friend in pain anymore. So he left the premises and went straight to his home to cast more active wards on it to protect Ginny and the coming Potter. This killer was hitting home now. And Harry vowed to nab this killer and send him straight to Azkaban.

Harry couldn't concentrate on daily routines anymore. He went to his office to check on the information of this killer again, in case there was some clue that he was missing. He even called Hermione for help. He needed every help possible. He would help provide justice to Lavender.

An owl with a file from St. Mungo's came to Harry. He quickly retrieved the file and fed the owl some treat. As the owl went away, he opened the file started to read.

 **Name: Lavender Brown**

 **Status: Deceased**

 **Cause of death: Transfiguration of blood into mud**

 **Time of death: sometime between 7:30pm to 8:00pm, today.**

 **Forensic analysis conclusion: No sign of struggle, Petrification spell was cast on the person before death. Death caused by transfiguration of blood into mud.**

More details followed the report along with pictures of the now dead Lavender, but Harry couldn't read anymore. One thing was clear to him. This killer is a muggle born. And he is taking revenge for all the wrong-doings ever done to him. All these killings are revenge killings.

All the murdered magical people had too many enemies to count. But what could Lavender have done to be killed in revenge? This case had Harry's head in a tizzy. Nothing was making sense to him anymore. Harry desperately wanted a break. This situation felt like the Horcrux hunt all over again. This helplessness and all those deaths.

"You called?" Hermione asked Harry standing at the doorway of Harry's office.

"Hermione. I am so glad to see you," Harry began.

"Yes. In times of need after all," Hermione replied, annoyance colouring her tone.

"Sorry, Mione. It just that you are so brilliant that we always call upon you when we are stuck," Harry explained sheepishly.

"And when you are not stuck? Mione is non-existent in your happy world," Hermione sneered.

"Hermione, don't say that. You are misunderstanding it," Harry replied.

"Yeah. That's why I was sent the invitation to your wedding just a week before the wedding. That's why I am always excluded from all your double dates and get-togethers. That's why I am no longer invited to the Sunday brunch at the Burrow. I was even excluded from the baby shower for Ginny," Hermione ranted, her anger slowing growing.

"Hermione, you are talking about the past things. We need to focus on the now. There is a crisis going on. People are getting killed. We need to work on this. Together," Harry explained, "Also, you never liked shopping, nor did you like these double dates because you never brought a plus one and it was awkward for everyone."

"You are right, Harry. I am letting bygones trouble me. Thank you for explaining," Hermione said and from her beaded bag that she was never seen without brought out a book covered in brown paper, "Give this book to Molly. I'll like that."

"Ehh… sure!" Harry looked confused on hearing her and took the gift.

 _'_ _Why would she say that she'll like that? Is it to usually said- 'they'll like this'? Must be some new flair,'_ Harry thought.

"So, can we get on with it?" Harry asked.

"Why not?"

* * *

 **Later that day**

"How many times do I need to tell you to not leave your books around to be found by just about anyone?" Astoria scolded Hermione when she came back from Harry's office.

"I can't help it, okay?" Hermione replied, shrugging her shoulders.

"And what's with this new habit of yours? Always shrugging your shoulders. Don't shrug!" Astoria huffed, standing behind Hermione's desk picking up the tomes that were scattered all over the office.

"But you have to admit it dear, whoever comes to Hermione's office will die a fatal death by slipping over the scattered books," Draco added leaning against the doorframe of Hermione's office, "Indigenous method, Hermione."

"Thanks, Draco. At least someone understands my master plan," Hermione said, in a conceding manner.

"Please, stuff it you two. Two both are a pair of mischievous…kids. Yes, kids, that's what you are. Don't snicker. No dessert for the two of you," Astoria kept ranting at them.

"Oh my sweetest honey," Draco began as he moved from the doorway and entered the room to wrap his arms around Astoria's shoulder, "You wouldn't do that to us now, would you? We listen to everything you say after all. Obey all your words."

"I don't know about you, but I still steal the peanut butter right from the jar. And I love it," Hermione said, seeing Astoria relax into Draco's embrace.

 _'_ _That girl needs her rest; God knows the stamina she holds. My mind is getting into gutter city thinking of stamina.'_ Hermione thought.

Suddenly Astoria swayed on her feet and fainted. Draco clutched her to his chest and shot Hermione a look of despair. Hermione soundlessly made her way to the Floo and called for St. Mungo's Emergency Healer while Draco laid Astoria on Hermione's plush couch.

"She needs rest. She looked exhausted when she entered the office. She may have a good amount of stamina but you have spent more than half of it before she even came here," Hermione said, in a nonchalant manner.

"What do you mean?" Draco answered in a panic tone.

"You are keeping her up all night," Hermione said as she sported a mother of all Slytherin smirk on her face.

"And wha-what makes you say that?" Draco sputtered his question.

"You will see," Hermione sang.

The Healer tumbled out of the fireplace and immediately took to work. After all, a Floo call for the newest Malfoy is no small thing. After casting few diagnostic spells on the fainted patient, the Healer hesitated to give the conclusion in front Hermione. Draco's glare at his behaviour quelled the Healer's hesitation.

"Congratulations, Mr Malfoy. Mrs Malfoy is expecting," the Healer declared.

While a small smile graced Hermione's face, Draco's face was sporting a scowl.

"What is she expecting?" Draco barked.

The healer was caught unaware by Draco's question. As the Healer paused to answer Draco in the politest way, Hermione solved the dilemma.

"That means, you knucklehead, is going to a father," Hermione said with a smile on her face.

"Really?" Astoria quipped, now that she was awake.

"Yes, Mrs Malfoy. You are four weeks pregnant," the Healer informed.

There was awkward shuffling on the part of the married couple as they had gotten married just a fortnight back. By the time the Healer could guess their strange behaviour of the two of them, Hermione distracted the Healer with questions about the needs of the mother to be. As the married couple settled their emotions, Hermione bid the Healer a good day for his service.

"So?" Hermione asked.

"So what?" Astoria snapped defensively.

"I am not blaming or anything, you know. I am, in fact, glad," Hermione placated her.

"Why is that?" Draco asked suspiciously.

"I am an impatient girl. I like the fact I can get to see the fruit of this crazy union faster than I expected. I would spoil him so bad. I'll teach him everything he would need and everything he won't need. I am so excited," Hermione squealed at the end of the sentence.

"Him? How can you be so sure about that, Meow?" Astoria asked.

"I may be pants at Divination but I know, a gut feeling, that it would be Draco Jr. all over again," Hermione replied softly.

"Draco Jr. you say?" Draco leered at Astoria.

"Yes. But much better than your version. He'll be a better person and the sneakiest Slytherin ever. He'll put Salazar to shame," Hermione proudly proclaimed.

"Hermione, do me a favour and be his godmother. Please?" Astoria asked.

"Tori… thank you. I will love to spoil him legally now," Hermione answered.

"Now that the formalities are, my boy and I are going to treat the best girls in our life with a treat. Who wants the sparkle crunch double choco fudge with a splash of melted vanilla ice cream?" Draco asked.

"Me, me, me," Astoria and Hermione chorused.

* * *

Harry was softly banging his head on the wall containing all the collected information about the random killer. He was at his wit's end and this thing was going nowhere. Ron was given, in fact, forced to take, an extended holiday to recoup from this mind numbing loss. That fellow truly loved Lavender, despite all her flaws. The poor boy was so broken down. And the re-appearance of one Bellatrix Lestrange had thrown the public into full blown panic. This case was thus shoved into the back stove for the moment. Catching that bitch was of utmost importance for the Aurors Department and also it was a matter of pride for Harry who was the youngest Head Auror ever. He couldn't let down the expectation of the public and the matter of their security.

He had to do something.

Fast.

Maybe he could…

* * *

It had just been a week after getting the news about the arrival of the newest Malfoy when Hermione decided to meet up with her friends right at their new married home near Wiltshire. But she was met with pale faces of her friends when she arrived at their home in the morning.

"What happened, Draco?"

"My bloody luck stuck again, that's what happened," Draco lamented, sitting beside Astoria in the sitting room's love seat, with his face hidden behind his hands.

"Tori?" Hermione asked looking confused.

"Bellatrix wants to take revenge on us because we betrayed the laws of the dead Dark lord," Astoria huffed with anger.

"And how do you know about that?" Hermione asked from her place in the ornate chair opposite to the loveseat.

"She sent a threat letter," Draco answered, his voice wavering now.

Hermione simply hummed. Then she stood up and made her way to the kitchen. Draco and Astoria kept sitting in their places. Sometimes, they didn't understand what she did and they knew from experience to not question her when she didn't provide any explanation. Saves the world from a trouble of ethical questions.

Then Hermione came back followed by Bikky, the house elf.

"He'll take care of you. You'll listen to everything he'll say. I know you'll be tensed and troubled, so he'll be your nanny for these days. Rest assured I'll do my best to the kid. Have no worries," Hermione replied determinedly.

"Hermione—" Astoria began.

"No, this is my thing to do. I have laid back on this for long. I should have done this much earlier," Hermione interrupted Astoria.

"Meow, please don't do something…that…donot- you're godmother to our child…" Draco couldn't form coherent sentences.

"Draco, you are going to contact my lawyer. Please solve the legal knots if any. I want my godchild spoilt," Hermione declared.

"And I want you to come back, in one piece," Astoria demanded.

"I'll try my best. But don't forget even if I am stuck, I will be there for the little prince. Just give me an Owl," Hermione said with finality.

"Why are you being so negative about it?" Astoria questioned.

"This is going to hit close to me now," Hermione answered.

"I'll make sure to send you somewhere you can come back from," Draco promised.

"And I'll hold you to that. After all, it wouldn't do my champ to see your pointy pale face as the second face of his life," Hermione teased.

"Woman, this is the face that had the hearts of numerous witches throbbing and had them fainting on me. My wife fainted from the brilliance of my handsomeness," Draco declared with a proud tilt of his head.

"Please, I fainted at the magnificence of my son's arrival," Astoria retorted.

That had the despaired trio laughing.

* * *

It had not been difficult to trace Bellatrix. All she had to do was proclaim a challenge for her in the shady parts of the community. And her reply came as a taunt from the crazy doll herself. That was all that she needed to hunt that bitch. And hunt she would.

The hunt had been particularly…satisfying despite edging around the Ministry hounds. Hermione had loved the feeling of sinking the knife deep into Bellatrix's flesh. Some may say she holds grudges a little too tightly, but she just couldn't help herself. She offed people who irked her- after all, she was doing a social service that way- but this kill, this kill was a guilty pleasure. She had cast a sensitising spell on Bellatrix and then got to carving. And carving did she do. To see the same old blood seep from the wounds made her feel no thrill but the feel of the running the sharp dagger into the flesh would a feeling Hermione would cherish forever. Heck, she could cast her Patronus brighter than ever from this memory alone.

She kept carving shallow wounds on Bellatrix, not enough to bleed her dry but enough to hurt her. Her body had become a criss-cross of cuts and Bellatrix's glare was something that had her laughing out loud.

"Sorry, Bells. I was just the wrong mudblood to cast the Crucio on. But come to think of it, maybe, I was the right mudblood to cast the Crucio on. Cheers, you got yourself a customised killer," Hermione said with a giggle as she moved away from the bleeding woman.

Bellatrix struggled against her binds.

"Oh you, I am not done yet. No need to fret. My masterpiece is just a moment away," Hermione stood up as she was kneeling over Bellatrix before that.

She brought a white packet and waved it near Bellatrix.

"When you tortured me, I accepted that. after all, what's a war without some sort of torture thrown in? but when you carved this word on me," Hermione said this as she rolled back the sleeves of her work shirt and shoved her scar near Bellatrix's face, "you poured salt over my wound. So now, it is my turn."

Hermione cast the sensitising spell on her for numerous times that she lost count. Now Bellatrix tried to stay very still as the slightest moment amplified the pain from the cuts.

"See you in hell," and Hermione poured salt from the packet into Bellatrix's wound. The screams that issued forth ricocheted in the room of the depilated cottage.

And the screams just didn't see to stop. It only seemed to raise louder.

"I bet your noseless bastard never thought torture could be so simple," Hermione taunted, "I think we are missing something." Hermione tapped her index finger on her chin as she acted to remember something. She snapped her finger and said, "Got it!" and pulled out a green bottle from her pocket.

"This is a muggle thing. I am pretty sure you would have loved the irony. Okay, this is lemon juice. Now let see how well you fare against it,"

And she poured the lemon juice over Bellatrix as her screams began endlessly again. She would take gagged breath and scream again.

"St-sto-stop it!"

"Say sorry first," Hermione snapped.

Bellatrix panted and screamed again as her nerves went wild again.

"S-so-sorrryyyy!" she dragged the word into a scream as a jolt of pain again flowed through her body.

"But what are you sorry for? Say what are you sorry for!" Hermione demanded.

Bellatrix looked at her with terrified eyes.

"Okay, I'll give you a hint. It is related to Longbottom,"

Bellatrix panted and slowly said, " Sor-sorry fo-for tor-torturing… the- the Long-bot-bottoms."

"Aaaaand?" Hermione implored her.

"Sorr-sorry for torturing yo-you."

"And?"

Bellatrix looked at her questioningly.

"Draco? Rings a bell?"

"Sorry- sorry for threat-threating th-them,"

"Good girl. I'll make it stop now, okay?" Bellatrix nodded her head so far gone into her pain that she barely comprehended what she said.

Hermione cast the sensitising spell again. Again, again and again, until the reverberating scream went silent. Hermione cocked her head at the now dead woman and cast the slicing spell on her heart to make sure that the dead remained dead.

She picked out a book from her satchel and placed it near her cooling body. And went towards the doors to walk out, then thought better and placed her wand on her temple and brought out a memory and stored it in a phial and placed it near the book then walked out of the cottage closing the door behind her.

* * *

The Aurors reached the crime scene too late or just at the right time, depending on personal perspective. They found the recently dead Bellatrix along with the mandatory book- this time it was War and Peace by Leo Tolstoy- but the unusual thing that they found was a phial of memories addressed to Neville Longbottom. The healer in question was immediately brought to the Ministry to view the content in public. The memory instead of swirling in the pensive played out like a projection on the surface.

Harry had a sinking feeling that just didn't go away. In fact, it got stronger with every passing moment. Neville and Harry's team viewed the memory. It began with a short glimpse of the Longbottoms' torture and quickly morphed into Bellatrix's torture. They saw it all- how badly she was sensitised and cut up, then the salt and lemon torture that finally resulted in her death when the body could no longer handle the pain.

"I am horrified, but I feel a peace. I can't say I condemn the people who did this. I think he justified the murder quite well if you ask me," Neville said to the shell-shocked viewers bar Harry. "I mean he didn't even any illegal spell. A standard sex spell ( yes, a sensitising spell is what that's used for Harry) and another standard house witch spell topped with salt and lemon which frayed her over-sensitized nerves. This killer recreated the effects of Cruciatus using the everyday spell. Brilliant. Scary but brilliant."

Harry could only stare at the healer who nonchalantly shrugged his shoulders when people looked at him with questioning eyes.

Harry cast out his Patronus that seemed dimmer than usual yet it was stable enough. The stag bounded out to deliver it the message. But Harry never got a reply to his Patronus message.

* * *

 **TBC...**


	4. Chapter 3

**I am back again with another brand new sparkling chapter. Now for a status update, I think the next chapter may come out a little late than the usual because I have been... procrastinating. And there was a demon project after my very own life. Also, I need my muse back. Right now, she's busy making my head bubble with Dramione plots and Supernatural crossovers. *smiles like Cheshire Cat***

 **Anyways, thanks to my bestest friend in the world, Puj and hugs to my soul brother, Shubham (yes, such things exist. Even I was surprised with my find) and lots of thanks to all who have favourited and followed this fiction and the precioussss reviewers. Thanks all.**

* * *

 **Chapter 3**

It had been almost a week since Bellatrix's death and the killing finally seemed abated, but Harry couldn't get rid of the nagging voice in the back of his mind. He sent an emergency memo to the Minister of Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt. He couldn't keep this inside him anymore. And…and the killer needed help as she was a fully functional productive magical citizen only with this annoying flare to kill people who pissed her off. She needed help, and immediately. It can't be helped if someone irked her or just annoyed her with their breathing. Harry almost shot out of his seat when he got the permit memo to meet the Minister of Magic; if his hunch was right then her next kill could be Ron if he went beyond his normal ability to have an emotional range of less than a teaspoon.

* * *

"Are you certain about this, Auror Potter? This is some really grave accusations against the supposed killer," Kingsley said doubtfully.

"I am like ninety percent sure about this. It has to be Hermione. No wonder we could get the hair or the hide of this killer. She's- she's bloody smart and brilliant. But she has this vicious side that rarely emerges and when it does it makes Voldemort look tame. Her ways are insidious and effective. But I never thought that she would get to this," Harry explained, tiredly rubbing his hands on his face.

"Did you any hint that she could act like this?" Kingsley asked, still not believing that Hermione was their killer.

"We drifted apart, that's what happened. And by the looks of the situation at hands, the situation pushed her beyond the line of…insanity. Controlled insanity," Harry said exasperatedly.

"How is even possible? Controlled insanity? Are you just trying to paint someone responsible for something like this?" Kingsley retorted.

"I questioned the mind healer who was supposed to treat Hermione. But she never went to him or so he said. Instead, I found she had oblivated the healer. On Hermione's appointment day, the Healer seemed to have fuzzy and blurred memories for some portion of the day. But these were not completely wiped out that the healer would find them standing out like a sore thumb. I have no idea why she is doing this. I just need the permission to question her with Veritaserum. Though I am not sure if that will work on her or not," Harry said apprehensively.

"Harry—"

"Please trust me. Just once for this. If it is indeed Hermione then think of the help we can provide her with. Wouldn't she have done the same for me?" Harry implored.

Kingsley was in a dilemma. But it was easy to see what her answer would be.

* * *

Draco and Astoria were lounging in their dining room with their guest of honour, Meow. Hermione and Draco's relationship was a very uncommon one and one that was formed in the strangest situation. She needed help to kick off her business and he was looking for a way to apologise to the witch he had tormented for years. She was the most wonderful work partner one could ask for. And she was a diligent and cunning lawyer he had ever met. There was yet to be a case that she hadn't won. Her success had made her firm the go-to-place when in trouble. Just as he had started admiring the fierce witch, he had fallen for her too. But he wasn't a sappy 'Puff to quote poetry or turn into a lovesick puppy. He loved her in his own way- he made her more cunning and sneaky in her ways. And she appreciated that. Her thank you that came in the form of a tryst in the middle of the office had his world tilt off its axis.

Though sex was mind _blasting_ , they both knew they couldn't support each other in the way they needed it. He wanted a snarky socialite wife; she needed a mind that matched her level of crazy. They both knew their relation could not face their personal demons and Draco was ashamed to say that Hermione's demons made his look like a dust speckle in a hurricane.

When he had tried read her mind when she had slipped into a nightmare that had her go unresponsive, Draco was scared out of his mind with the type of trauma he found there and he knew he wasn't strong or fearless enough to brave it along with her. He tried to help her, he did. But it was of no use. And Hermione and he put a stop to their… whatever that was. It was awkward for a long time until Astoria came stumbling into his office having tripped on the carpet end with her high stiletto shoes. The glare she gave the offending piece of décor made both Hermione and him chuckle after a long time.

And he slowly fell for the angry kitten and Hermione found a confidant in her. In fact, Hermione helped their relationship bloom into a beautiful and strong bond that could survive the harshest weather of life. It was on their third date that Draco revealed that he was intimate with Hermione with emphasis on 'was'. Her face lost all its joy and excitement on hearing that, but she didn't create a scene or get silent angry or cried out right. She listened to it all, calmly he must add, and said that she would judge it herself and appointed herself as their joint personal secretary. Needlessly to say, they got married within five months of Tory's joining the office. And one day Draco found Hermione eating popcorn and watching them with undivided attention when she found Astoria and him having sex in their sitting room. The resulting embarrassment would haunt both of them forever but Hermione said that their performance was pretty amazing- _much much better than those fake orgasms they show in those porn videos_ (her words!) - and she was sorry for not getting to see it from the beginning.

But they got along like house on fire despite all the crazy things they did together. She was a constant in their life and a guide despite being a little on the crazy side but who's he to complain. His wife liked her, hell she adored her.

Happy wife, happy life.

They were having a peaceful dinner, but for the first time, it was a tensed atmosphere. Tory looked almost on the verge of tears and he wasn't exactly okay. Only one was unruffled having her dinner was Hermione. But he would be surprised if something was able to ruffle her feathers-literally (she was fucking peregrine falcon animagus) - these days. As he slowly chewed his seemingly tasteless food, Mimpsy, his house elf popped in.

"An owl for Missy Meow," she declared as she presented a letter seal with Ministry's seal on it.

"Huh! That was fast. I thought it would take them more time. I guess Harry isn't as clueless as he used to be," Hermione said as she took the letter and thanked Mimpsy who bowed and popped away.

Astoria, outright, broke into a flood of tears and Draco clenched his fork, his knuckles turning white, as Hermione tore the envelope to read the letter.

 _To,_

 _Hermione Jean Granger. (_ It read on the envelope.)

 _Mione,_ ("God, doesn't he know I hate that nickname. I mean come on, idiot. It's been what twelve years," Hermione commented.)

 _What I want to tell you next is a groundbreaking information. So I want to meet you at the Ministry for this. I hope you will co-operate with me for this. Please, this is the last favour I ask of you. Please owl me back your reply. I expect you as soon as possible._

 _Harry._

"It's half ordering me and half begging me. Harry seriously needs to work out his tone. He'll always stay confused otherwise," Hermione said after she read the letter out loud.

A sob replied Hermione back. She got out of her seat and went to hug the crying woman.

"Tory, please don't cry. It's just a matter of few months then I'll be back. It's not like they can send me away forever," Hermione tried to placate Astoria.

"What-sob-what- if they send you to-to Azkaban?" Astoria's question ended in a wail.

"If they wanted to, they would have sent a barrage of Aurors to capture me. Trust me. This secretive way means I'm going to be shipped off. But I am pretty sure Kingsley would like a word with me, preferably after I have had three drops of the Veritaserum. It's nothing I can't handle. What most people don't know is the after effects of the Cruciatus. I am certain I can explain it to them so that I remain the only torture, enhanced witch. Mwahahaha!" Hermione ended with a villain's laugh.

"That wasn't even remotely funny," Tory sniffed.

"This I agree with," Draco replied with a scowl marring his face.

"Pretty boy, get ready to defend me. It will be a tough case for you. And remember to execute my will. I want to go under lock and key while knowing that my godchild will be well looked after," Hermione replied with her chin raised.

"That was probably the most horrible excuse I ever heard come out of your mouth," Draco said with disbelief. "I will let you know that my vault alone holds more than a billion Galleons thanks to our booming business."

"I have got two million and fifty thousand Galleons and growing in my vault," Hermione countered.

"I said in my vault alone," Draco retorted.

Hermione merely smirked at him with her raised chin at him.

"Fine! You win," Draco conceded.

"Draco will go with you as your lawyer," Astoria commanded.

"I can take care of myself," Hermione replied.

"Let me save the day for once!" Draco exclaimed.

"I won't hear anything. It's either a visit accompanied by Draco or we are chucking you to Russia," Astoria said with determination.

"Meow, for once in your life trust. Trust us. We won't let you down. Whatever happens. We will be there with you," Draco with steel in his voice.

His earnestness got Hermione to agree to it. And then Totslee, the study room elf, was called to provide a parchment and self-inking quill along with their family owl, Mercury.

 _Harry,_

 _Let's meet. Say at 11am tomorrow at Minister's office._

 _Hermione._

* * *

The morning was terse one for the Minister. The shiniest war hero was going to be called in for questioning in regards of the serial killings. This particular news could cause a huge amount of panic in public. It would be like finding a wolf in sheep's clothing. Kingsley rubbed his palms on his face. The situation was a very delicate one. He never wanted to be a politician but now that he was in this he better be the best ever like he always does. And with the elections nearby, he just couldn't allow this 'incident' to be known by the public. Harry had said Hermione would arrive at 11am sharp. It was ten thirty now. The waiting game had begun.

Harry arrived with Hermione in tow right on time but following them into the Minister's office was a stoic Draco.

"What is he doing here, Potter?" Kingsley asked as he rose from his seat.

"Just dropping in to check on the friendly chat between two old friends which had to take place in the Minister's office. Surprising. But then again the perks of being the Saviour of the Wizarding World, eh?" Draco mocked the two men as he took a seat beside Hermione in the plush seats.

Kingsley looked at Hermione for an explanation.

"What? He insisted that he wanted to come with me. So I thought why not," Hermione answered while Draco smirked.

Harry raised his hands, midway, in the air and let it drop in defeat. Harry opened his mouth to speak but Kingsley interrupted him.

"Hermione, I will be very frank with you. Being the smartest person this magical community, you deserve to know this first hand," Kingsley paused and looked like he was gathering his strength to say the next words. "Harry here has brought some grievous charges against you." Then Kingsley waited for Hermione to explain it.

There was an awkward pause as Harry and Kingsley waited for Hermione to reply. But she merely looked at them as if they were boring her. Draco was examining his manicured nails as if they were the most interesting thing in the world.

"So?" Hermione finally asked.

"What do you mean so?" Kingsley asked as he could no longer hold his curiosity.

"I meant so what?" Hermione explained as she gave them an incredulous look.

"How is this news not affecting you, Hermione?" Kingsley questioned her further.

"Hellooooo… Painted a scarlet woman at the age of fourteen, undesirable no. two by the age of eighteen. Do you expect me to gasp and widen my eyes at the news of accusations? Then my bed would have been made when people scandalised me in the court just to defend their clients. So I'll ask again why you have called me here. I haven't got much time on my hands, so you better not waste it," Hermione snapped while controlling her temper which was already on the edge.

"You killed them, didn't you?" Harry retorted unable to hold back the accusations anymore.

"You have to be specific, Harry. My records haven't been very clean since the first year," Hermione replied with a sigh.

"Those muggles, Lavender, Bellatrix. You killed them, didn't you?" Harry asked, this time angrily.

There was a pregnant pause and then,

"You missed the bubotuber pus woman," Hermione corrected them in her know-it-all's voice.

Kingsley pinched his bridge of the nose in defeat while Harry just raised his arms in the air only to drop them in exasperation. Draco smirked but there were a wariness and caution behind his eyes.

"And Rita Skeeter," Hermione continued nonchalantly.

"What? But… it was never registered…" Harry's voice drifted away as he tried to recall.

"Well, no one misses a beetle. Neither anyone mourns the death of a beetle," Hermione said cryptically.

"What did you do, Hermione?" Harry demanded.

"After Ron and I broke up, I had bug inflation in my apartment. I though the bug repellent I used in fourth year would have been sufficing, but unfortunately it wasn't. so I created a chamber spray system for bugs and every flying insect. It was fun. To watch them hit the gas curtain and then fly dizzily for some moment and then land on their backs on the floor with their legs twitching. Then they went still. But twitched again. Then silent forever. But this particular beetle held some respect in my eyes for its tenacity. And I appreciate a struggle where I see one. After all, I struggled too. So I took mercy and decided to give it an honourable death. I stupefied it and stuck its wings to my pin board and then systematically plucked out all it legs. Then preserved it with the permanent stasis spell and then gave its body a good polish and turned its inside to stone and attached it to a clip," Hermione explained it all while her audience listened raptly. Except Draco. He already knew it.

"Then what? What did you do?" Harry asked.

"It's Ginny's favourite hair clip, now," and the cruel smile that found its way on Hermione's face didn't seem so out of place on her anymore.

The gasp of horror that Harry emitted wasn't so surprising anymore either.

"You do know this confession to murder can get you to Azkaban for the rest of your life," Kingsley said darkly.

"Confession of what, Mr Ministry? The process of murdering an attractive blue beetle and making it into an ornament?" Draco countered.

"And on what basis can you convict me of all those deaths? What's your proof?" Hermione demanded.

"I know you, Hermione. That's why you have to drink this," Harry held up a phial of clear liquid, " and then answer our questions."

Hermione looked at him critically and then replied, "Fair enough," at that Harry gave a sigh of relief. "But I have a condition."

"And that is?" Kingsley asked.

"For every question you ask, I'll ask one in return," Hermione stated her condition.

"What could you have to ask of us?" Kingsley asked curiously.

"That's for me and my lawyer to see," Hermione replied sharply.

Harry and Kingsley looked thoughtful for some time, but Kingsley minutely nodded his head and Harry agreed grudgingly.

"Let's begin this twenty question session," Hermione crackled.

"Why did you kill the muggles?" Harry shot.

"The million dollar question. Why done it? It was who dunit some years back, wasn't it, Draco?" Hermione asked.

"Yes, it was," Draco drawled.

"Just answer the question, god damn it!" Harry shouted.

"Patience, Boy-Who-Lived. This ain't your story to tell," Hermione snapped.

"Hermione, feed the dogs," Draco said in a bored tone.

"Okaaaay. So, Jason was this bastard who pushed me into the puddle because I was a freak. It didn't bother me much after I got into Hogwarts but I met him some time back and he tried to hit on me. I brushed him off. Well and good. Untiiiiiil, he pushed me into an alley to have his wicked way with me. That sailed his ship," Hermione answered.

"What of those books that you leave behind?" Kingsley asked in a muted voice.

"Books are always a good compensation for just about anything," Hermione answered indifferently.

"You do know this conversation can be presented in front of the Wizengamot," Harry said in cold voice.

"For what? Tea party conversation material about why Hermione Granger, Mudblood extraordinaire, likes books as compensation or why her muggle bullies ship sailed to New Zealand when he got her into the alley," Hermione shot back, half crouched in her chair defensively.

"Listen, Head Auror Potter and Minister Shacklebolt," Draco began as Hermione sank into her seat, "This is not a confession. Neither is this a session to affirm whatever you think you what to affirm. This is, plain and simple, a personal chat between three people and a lawyer who agreed to preside over it."

"Hermione, please listen to me. You…you need help. You are not okay. It is not okay to off people if they piss you off. You are supposed to contact the Aurors who take of problems like this," Harry pleaded.

"Draco, the papers please," Hermione said as she extended her hand towards Draco in a sharp movement.

Draco handed her the paper and Hermione began reading.

"This is a complaint form filled in the month of February against harassment by Muggle. The authority answered to not muck with filth as they have an annoying tendency to spatter filth on the people who come in contact with them," Hermione then shoved the paper towards Harry. "Surprisingly, it was signed seen and approved by the newest Head of the Department, Harry J. Potter." Hermione then pulled out another form, "This is one that states a witch has been sending me bubotuber pus as hate mail as a form of protest against the client I was forced to represent in the court. Fortunately, our firm's mail filter snagged this mail but the next few mails were the exploding type and my secretary got badly hurt by it. I filled a complaint but the handling Auror told me tit for tat. His words. Again it was signed seen and approved by the newest Head of the Department, Harry J. Potter," Hermione explained as her breath came in angry huffs.

"Then we found out there was a special system assigned by the department itself for "useless" complaints like these were that were considered time wasters and they were handled by the desk job Aurors instead," Draco added.

"We need to accept that there are flaws in every system—" Kingsley began.

"My turn for questions. What happens wheeeeeeen a person is hit by the cruciatus curse?" Hermione asked in a sing-song voice.

The question had Harry and Kingsley reel back but then Kingsley answered,

"It is a torture curse. It makes the nerves think they are being hurt. Badly," Kingsley answered solemnly.

"Except it doesn't. it actually hurts the nerves. If it only provided an illusion of pain, wouldn't Neville's parents have been cured already? It actually hurts. Like hell," Hermione said but her voice broke a little at the end.

"Hermione, our mind healers are one of the best in the Wizarding world—"

"They are useless, Harry. When they first enter my mind to check, they faint or they cry or they get petrified in fear. I had to oblivate every one I had a meeting with. Out of pity, of course," Hermione said with a shrug.

"These killings. Did you mourn or regret any murder that you did?" Kingsley asked.

Draco immediately froze in his chair, his façade of boredom and indifference dropped off. Hermione snuggled into her chair more and wrapped a tendril of her rebellious hair around her finger and twirled it.

"I didn't kill no one," she answered meekly, "When I was with 'em, they were alive. When I left 'em, they were alive. So whatever happened after that, it's none of my concern."

"You still need help," Harry murmured, realising that this was an argument that he could never win in this lifetime.

"And who can help her? Look at her. She's perfectly okay. She functions normally, she's wonderful lawyer and businesswoman. There's nothing wrong with her," Draco reasoned.

"Awwww. Thank you, sugar," Hermione chimed with a pout.

Kingsley was silent and was thinking thoughtfully.

"We have work to do. So are we excused?" Draco asked.

"You can go. But you have to come if we call you again," Kingsley replied.

"Got it," Hermione answered as she got up from the chair and pulled up Draco from his seat.

"Ciao, fellas," Hermione said as she gave them a small salute and with a parting wink at them, the duo went out of the office.

Harry sighed and Kingsley kept rubbing his palm on his face when the office door whipped open to admit Hermione's head.

"Forgot to tell you. I have two questions left to ask of you. Just wanted to remind ya," Hermione said all the while tilting her head at an impossible angle.

"Yes, yes. You can ask them when we meet again," Kingsley replied hastily.

Hermione giggled creepily and was suddenly dragged out of the door frame by Draco.

Harry let out a sign again. Kingsley closed his eyes and shook his head slowly as if to dislodge this whole encounter like a bad daydream.

"She has gone off her rockers, right?" Harry asked.

"This type of insanity is the most dangerous. She's normal, but at the same time, she's not. Her insanity is kind of partial. She's like a ticking bomb waiting to explode then shuffle back into herself. No one knows when she might explode again," Kingsley said, "This community lost more than just a brilliant witch. It showed the world again what some sadistic curse can turn a person into."

"And we are as much as at fault as that curse. If only we had paid some attention to her. Then we wouldn't have to see this day," Harry said with a sob, "I lost not only my best friend. I lost my sister. I may have been busy with my life, but I thought she was busy as well. Not…"

"I cannot remember at this moment but there is an institution for people like Hermione. And I have heard they can cure this. After all, this is partial insanity. All they've got to do is separate the insanity that has bleed into her sanity," Kingsley answered while he called his secretary to bring in a file.

"Is this as simple as you say it is?" Harry asked doubtfully.

"I hope it is," Kingsley replied.

* * *

A week passed by with occasional call from the Minister of Magic. Hermione was unperturbed and had her bags packed with everything she might need. Her bottomless Louis Vuitton trolley bag had all her books which were a feat in itself. And the tote bag had all her clothes.

"Think of this as a required vacation. I'll be back for my brat to be born. Trust me, I'll be here to hold him in my arms right after he's born," Hermione placated a sniffling Astoria.

"For a vacation, a person knows where they are going. You don't know where you are going!" Astoria cried.

"I know, I know. I am a muggle born. I know news about my muggle world. I know where I am going," Hermione replied.

"How do you know?" Astoria asked.

"I might have copied the file that Minister Kingsley may have requested for after I came out of his office," Hermione replied.

"And where would that be?" Draco asked as he joined the girls.

"The Elizabeth Arkham Asylum for the Criminally Insane."

* * *

 **T.B.C...**


	5. Chapter 4

_**Sorry for such a long wait. I had my semestral exams. And my laptop was under lock and key. No more delays after this I hope. The next chapter after this is in writing though I could manage only 300words. I have an ending in sight, so no worries there.**_

 _ **There are going to be some scenes here which could hurt sensibilities of some sensitive people. In case sensitive people have read this story from the start, they would know this story isn't for them. So this warning is going to be the only one.**_

 _ **Thanks to Puja (Miss you, honey!), Shubham( the handsome evil doctor in making), WinchesterGranger(the sweetest person on earth) and Nautical Paramour and Meowmerson.**_

 ** _And thanks to all of those who have reviewed, favourited and followed this story. Your gestures mean a lot to me. Thanks!_**

 ** _On with the story!_**

* * *

All my friends are heathens, take it slow

Wait for them to ask you who you know

Please don't make any sudden moves

You don't know the half of the abuse

Twenty One Pilots-Heathens

* * *

 **Chapter 4**

The guard had shouted lights out five minutes ago and now he had come to drag his baton over the bars doing a final before lights out the patrol. The prison was too quiet these days. Some liked the quiet but this quiet meant just one thing- the chaos was running low. And Joker couldn't let that happen now, can he?

He was under a strict surveillance inside their special glass cell and was wearing the most unflattering type of straitjacket. White with buckles. Metal buckles. Maybe he could be a little creative with the buckles of this type. A forceful slam of buckle to the temple of the head can create a dent in.

He laughed at his own joke. Dent in the head. Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha!

Maybe a good smash. It's messy. It'll destroy his clean jacket. But maybe he needed some colour in his life. The blood red was his most favourite colour and a dash of pink-pink might be just the thing he needed.

The bar banging was nearing his suite. Bar banging needs some head denting. Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha!

But the voices are no longer laughing at his jokes. They want to see some action. And honestly, he needed some action too. It's been too quiet.

Too quiet for Arkham.

* * *

Harry read the file that Kingsley had fished out for him. It was a muggle asylum for criminally insane! That was probably not the best idea that had graced the head of their honourable Minister of Magic.

"Are you sure an asylum will cure her off of insanity?" Harry asked his voice full of doubt.

"They have cured criminally insane people. They have very modern and state of art techniques to cure the patient. They have cured violent people and made them harmless as babies," Kingsley assured Harry.

"I am not so sure about what they claim. Name some cured people," Harry inquired.

"The psychiatrist there is a former patient," Kingsley answered.

"That doesn't assure me at all. In fact, I think you have got it wrong. It says the former psychiatrist is now presently a patient," Harry countered.

"Harry, we have to admit her somewhere," Kingsley said frustrated.

"And admitting her there is the answer?" Harry snapped.

"Peek into that pensive memory of her last session here. You will soon agree with me," Kingsley said as he brought out the pensive from the self behind him.

The memory phial was emptied into the pensive and then Harry dipped his head into it. He saw Hermione seated in the seat in front of the desk but the smile that graced her face seemed so out of place. It was something the crazed Death Eaters wore when they taunted their victims. Kingsley was questioning her and there was a Healer who was presiding over the meeting. Kingsley then began his interrogation.

"I understand those muggles were your childhood bullies and that you harmed Mrs Dorson because she was potentially harming you. But did you 'hurt' Ms Lavender Brown?"

"Have you ever trimmed your garden shrubs, Kingsley?" Hermione asked instead of answered the question.

"Yes, I have," Kingsley answered tersely as if judging how his answer will affect the situation.

"I did the same thing. Trimmed the bad leaves to nurture the shrub to be a…good shrub," Hermione replied calmly as if they were really discussing gardening.

"You killed her, Hermione. Killed her. Do you even understand the implication of taking the life of a person?" Kingsley snarled as he barely kept him from shouting out loud.

"Plants have life in them too. But we cut them, trim them, rip them from their soil, force them into a new pot, water them, not water them, love them, and not love them. But nobody speaks for them. Nobody. Their pain goes unheard, unspoken. Just because a human has someone to _speak_ them," Hermione hissed as her tone grew much harsher and colder, "it doesn't give anyone the right to question my cleansing. I am doing everyone a favour. I am creating a society which is tolerant towards the rights of a muggle born. We are not simply muggle borns. We are the New Blood. We are magic in its truest form. The best of both worlds." She huffed at the end as if explaining all the reasons irritated her.

"Hermione, you took her life," Kingsley replied exasperatedly.

"Not my problem," Hermione shot back as folded her arms under her chest and jutted her chin out as if to ask "so there" while the Healer beside Kingsley inhaled sharply out of horror.

"How is it not your problem?! You killed her. Don't you understand!" Kingsley shouted at her.

Hermione still shrugged. Harry's head was reeling. He could no longer contain his horror on seeing, first-hand, what his best friend had turned into.

The healer whispered something in Kingsley's ear and Kingsley sharply turned his head towards him, silently asking him a question. The healer nodded gravely and then Kingsley too nodded his permission.

"Ms Granger, I would like to perform some tests on you," the Healer said.

"What good would that do me?" Hermione asked in her familiar curious voice.

"It would help me to understand your mindset at the present moment," the Healer replied formally.

"Oh…okay! Go ahead. But try something funny and I'll kill you. Very painfully. I'll know if you try to do that," Hermione said coolly.

"Not at all, Miss. Not all," the Healer replied nervously.

"You do?" Hermione asked innocently as the Healer affirmed his answer with a nod.

"Good boy. Kings, please keep him. I like him," Hermione said in a childlike voice.

Harry shot out of the memory and clutched his head as if he had a massive headache. He removed his spectacles from his nose and rubbed his eyes like he could rub away what he saw in the memory.

"She needs help," Kingsley said softly. "Healer Marcone sent his reports this morning. The tests all point towards the fact that she has a—what do you say…an imbalance in her head. Her tests reports from the indicative spells say that she is logically sane. But Healer Marcone says she has stopped feeling empathy."

"What does that mean?" Harry asked despite knowing what exactly it meant. He just it to be confirmed. By someone else.

"She no longer feels regret or guilt for her actions. She thinks what she does is right and she doesn't feel the pain she causes to her…for the lack of better words-victims," Kingsley said sadly, "I contacted a muggle Healer too under the supervision of the muggle Minister. That Healer said that she has turned into a serial killer who kills to prove a point to her…victims. She told me to thank the lords that she is co-operating like she is doing and that she doesn't work with the operative of teaching everyone who has wronged her according to 'her books'. Apparently then, we would have to put her down. Her words, not mine. She suggested institutionalisation also. Harry, I am sorry. I tried."

"You tried at least whereas we, being her friends, did nothing. What went wrong? What happened to make her this way? She wasn't—she wasn't like this. She was the kindest person on this earth, with a heart so big that she could die for anyone!" Harry cried out.

"Cruciatus is what happened," Kingsley replied sombrely.

"What does that supposed to mean?" Harry demanded.

"Crucio turns a person mad. Mad with pain," a medium built man in his thirties answered as he dusted the soot off his Healer cloak when he stepped out of the fireplace. "Healer Shurane, a specialist in treating minor effects of Cruciatus," he said as he extended his hand to shake with Harry.

"I called Healer Shurane requesting an immediate meeting with you today before I official issued an order to deport Hermione to the institute we were speaking of," Kingsley explained as Harry sat in the seats opposite the Minister's desk and the Healer took the seat beside him.

"I will come straight to the point as I have a lot of work to do. I was handed over the standard reports of Hermione and told to analyse it, pronto. This case has caught my attention since then but sadly there is nothing I can do any more than explaining it to you why this happened," Healer Shurane said.

"There is seriously nothing that can be done?" Harry asked dejectedly.

"Had she been admitted to the Mind Healers few days after the curse was cast on her, maybe then we could have healed the effects of the curse. But at this point in time, only a miracle can cure her. Her mind is completely changed now. This curse—it directly affects the mind, creating actual pain there so that the mind creates an illusion of pain throughout the body. The Longbottoms lost their mind. Mind you- lost their mind. Not go crazy. Their minds broke from pain. But Hermione…Hermione is different. She somehow had held onto her mind during the duration of the torture, as I have been told by Minister here," Harry nodded at that. "So it means half of her mind is intact but the other half has undergone a change in psyche. She might function as a normal person now but there will be a time when the normal part of her will no longer function. Just like you see now. She was a successful businesswoman but then she started acting upon her whims. Slowly at first, one or two victims at times. Now you find eleven cases in your hand, Mr Potter," Healer Shurane explained.

"You mean she will only keep getting worse?" Harry asked in disbelieve.

"I am afraid that is the only conclusion to her case," Shurane said solemnly.

Harry rubbed his face with his face, frustrated, then he suddenly cried out as he slammed his hands on the desk near him startling his companions in the room.

"Mr Potter, please hold yourself together. You losing control of yourself will not help anyone," Shurane exclaimed.

Harry sat down on a seat behind him heavily as Kingsley placed a hand on his shoulder to comfort him. Then Kingsley turned towards Shurane to talk about something but all that went unheard by Harry as he let himself be swallowed by the pain of losing his best friend.

* * *

Ron let the extendable ear fall to the floor when he heard the revelation about Hermione. His mind was blank and body comfortably numb.

'His Lavender killed by her. The love of his life, mother to his children who would never be born because of that—that—'

Rapid, angry footstep made its way out of the Ministry. Ron wasn't going to rest until the guilty was punished. This wasn't the Wizarding Britain that will allow guilty way free just because the guilty happened to be someone of power. She wasn't going to let off with just a tap on the wrist. He would provide the justice.

Or die trying.

* * *

Hermione was on a shopping spree with Astoria in muggle London and Draco was their luggage mule. He seemed covered with shopping bags.

"Can we not at least cast a lightening spell on these bags?" Draco complained.

"Nope. This exercise shall build character," Astoria replied with a smirk.

"I want to check out this new ice-cream parlour. I have heard great about their classic vanilla chocolate sundae," Hermione told Astoria as she dragged the blonde into the parlour. Draco huffed and entered the parlour behind them complaining about feeling-less women and their insidious torture methods.

Once they were seated into the parlour and their orders taken, Astoria began her Spanish inquisition on Hermione.

"How sure are you that they are sending you to an American institute for behavioural rectification?"

Draco pointed his ice cream spoon at Hermione, glared and said, "This is all your fault."

Hermione just cocked her brow.

"Ever since you two started your girl bonding thing-y, Astoria has begun speaking in five lettered words. Or worse, more the merrier. I mean behavioural rectification. How bloody long is that word even?" Draco finished with a fake shiver.

Astoria simply huffed at him while Hermione paid him no heed.

"The Ministry over-estimates itself. And it is no challenge for me to place some spy bugs in the Minister's office. I am the brightest witch of my age, after all," Hermione explained, as-a-matter-of-factly.

"When will you be back?" Astoria asked as she fished a spoonful of Draco's ice cream.

"Before my godchild is born," Hermione answered.

"And how do you plan to do that? You are going to be institutionalised. Does that word even ring any bells?" Draco asked heatedly.

"And have you never heard of the word breakout?" Hermione countered back as she pushed her empty ice cream bowl away.

"You are going to risk being labelled as an escapee?" Astoria gasped.

"Arkham is different. Besides, I plan on shifting to the other side of the pond. Britain has become too dreary to me. America is an adventure I am willing to undertake," Hermione said.

* * *

When the official notice came whooping in the window, nobody was surprised to know that Hermione was being summoned to the Minister's office be taken away to some better hospital to treat her illness.

As if.

The last visit to the Minister had ended with Hermione getting thinly veiled threats of being hunted down like the animal she was if she tried to escape the generous gestures of the Ministry. Oversea apparation was a risk best taken in times of trouble and Floo was out of the question as it was easily regulated. Hermione couldn't even escape via Muggles means if she wanted because the Muggle authorities were also alerted about the escape possibilities of a proven criminally insane person. Hermione was cornered and had to do their biddings.

Or so they thought.

Hermione shrunk her luggage to a minuscule size and embedded it into the back of her middle finger making it look like a weird tattooed ring, much to the horror of the Malfoy mother to be.

"Why does that tattoo spell LV?" Draco asked as he rubbed the arms of his baby's mamma to soothe her.

"Because it is Louis Vuitton, duh," Hermione said slowly.

"It looked to me like it said Lord Voldemort," Draco replied after some time of consideration.

"Rather it seemed to me like Lady Voldemort," Astoria quipped in.

Hermione stared at them dumbfounded.

"First, He-Who-Is-Dead would have never married a New Blood despite her being more talented than him," at which Draco coughed and murmured 'know-it-all', "and the second being You-Know-Who lacked a distinct You-Know-What."

Astoria started counting off her fingers, "He was noseless, hairless—"

"Earless," Draco interrupted.

"And ' _the thing_ ' less. I am very confident. It is why he always seemed to have a stick up his arse," Hermione added.

"Hermione, I lived with him. I know what he lacks, I have seen him. With his clothes on, mind you," Draco hurriedly added when Hermione let out a snort. "Take it from an expert. He distinctly lacked an arse too," Draco commented.

"Ah, no wonder he seemed so tensed all the time. He couldn't relief himself. For he had the main _thing_ missing," Hermione laughed out.

"Poor Aunt Bellatrix. She spent her life looking for some _thing_ she would have never found," Draco said as he joined in the laughter.

"Can we just not talk about Voldemort's thing of all things in the world," Astoria said in the middle of delicate giggles.

"So who's thing do you want you to talk about?" Hermione teased Astoria as Draco let out a loud laugh.

Astoria blushed and hid her face in her husband's chest. Hermione had a smile plastered on her face as she took in the scene.

"On the serious note, what about the wand?" Draco asked as soon as he caught his breath.

"That is going to get snapped," Hermione said, deadpan.

"You are joking right," Draco said shocked at her reply.

"Not at all. Do you really expect that they would safe keep my wand? Are you really that naive?" Hermione questioned back.

"Not naive. But snapping of the wand? Even the Azkaban prisoners have their wands safely kept for them," Astoria answered.

"Yes. But I am not an Azkaban prisoner or ex-prisoner. I am a feral animal who needs to be either put down or sent so far that no one remembers her anymore," Hermione said.

"So the wand? Where will be kept?"

"I no longer need it," Hermione said as she softly caressed the wand, looking closely at its markings.

"What do you mean you no longer need it? Don't tell me you are a complete wandless caster!" Astoria stated in surprise.

"Something broke inside of me. So I no longer need my wand to focus my magic. I simply will it and voila! The work is done!"

"That is pretty marvellous," Draco replied in awe, a tone that most don't get to hear from Draco Abraxas Malfoy.

"And makes my work easier. One headache less to care about. The luggage was important, so it comes with me," Hermione replied.

There was a pause while Hermione placed her wand in a wand box that she brought from the store.

"Now what?" Astoria asked unable to control her curiosity.

"Now I am going to give them my fake wand and then we wait," Hermione said ominously.

When Astoria's face fell at that, Hermione added, "While we wait we can plan for that lavish baby shower, can we not?"

Astoria replied yes and brought out various magazines featuring baby items and Draco took pleasure in watching them celebrate the coming of his child.

* * *

 _'_ _That apartment is somewhere around this corner. I certainly remember that it used to be here. So why isn't her name tag here?'_ Ron thought as he roamed the corridors of the residential building where he knew Hermione used to stay before their break up. But now that she has become a killer, maybe she looted those homes whose owners she killed and now moved to some better place. Or maybe, she has started to live like the killer she is in some dingy dungeon dancing around the bonfire celebrating the deaths. Or she could be living with those fucking Death Eaters!

Ron stumbled and landed on the carpeted halls. He crawled on fours and then sat down with a thump with his back to the floor clutching his hair in his hands.

 _'_ _How could Hermione do this to him? To Lavender? He had finally gathered his courage to settle down. And Lavender had broken the news that she was pregnant and he was finally coming to terms that he was going to be a father. He was ready to be a husband and a father. He was ready! He was ready, Merlin damn it! He would make Hermione pay. He would. His child!'_

Another whispered joined his inner monologue, _'Tsk, tsk, tsk. Look at the poor Weasley. Born wealth less, now living childless. The woman finally did what she always wanted to. Make him suffer. Of course she wanted to make him suffer. After all, Ronald Bilius Weasley was the first reason of her tears in the Wizarding world. He did have to pay back for all those hurt. Instead, his unborn child did. Won't Ron take a step? Won't he for once in his life be a man? Will he not take revenge?'_

He would. Of course, he would. He is a war hero, for Merlin's sake. He roughly rubbed his face with his palm and stood up suddenly determined more than ever and apparated away with a Pop!

* * *

Hermione arrived at the Minister of Magic's office at the appointed time along with her lawyer and lawyer's wife. Minister Kingsley was there along with a barrage of Aurors and Head Auror Potter. Astoria looked at Hermione with teary eyes while Draco stood with a stoic expression on his face. There was an awkward silence which Kingsley deemed worthy enough to break.

"Miss Granger, after the consultations with the Healers at St. Mungo's and with the Head Auror we came to the decision that you need psychiatric help."

"Wow, thank you. I am honoured. Someone give this man a cookie. He finally found the war heroes need psychiatric help. Well, teenaged war heroes don't need psychiatric help," Hermione said sarcastically.

"Hermione—" began Harry.

"Boy-Who-Lived, it was nice knowing you. Emphasis on the past tense," Hermione cut in.

Harry opened his mouth to speak again but a glare from Hermione stopped him.

"Draco, you have been there when no one was. Thank you. Don't visit me, whatever you do," Hermione said as she aired kissed his cheeks.

"Tori, I have no words for what you did for me. It is beyond compare. I love you," and Hermione kissed her full on the mouth as Astoria's eyes seem to bulge out.

Everyone looked shocked but Draco's face switched between amused and leery.

"I knew you wore orange lip gloss. Nice after smell," Hermione said with a wink, "Okay, Aurors. Take it away."

Without much further ado, some Aurors patted Hermione down while some cast spell on her to retrieve any hidden weapon, magical or otherwise. And they were sorely disappointed when they found nothing on her person. Hermione twirled like a princess at a ball and giggled like someone complimented her.

Harry's head was spinning since he never thought he would have to see this aspect of Hermione. The friend with heart of gold, the sharpest mind in all of Britain turned into this. It is like not diagnosing a friend who had the highest chance of getting afflicted with a plague that touched everyone and had the ability to harm your friend the most. And you let it harm it anyway. Because you were busy. So busy that now what you are seeing in front of you is a twisted version of the person you used to know. When did life get so messed up?

While Harry was busy disbelieving his eyes, Ron had blasted open the office doors with a strong Bombarda. Everyone took cover however Hermione silently cast a shield around the mother to be.

"You will pay for what you did!" Ron shouted at Hermione, his wand pointed at her.

"But you know it wasn't me who did it, Ronald. She did that to herself," Hermione pleaded.

"You are lying! I heard everything," Ron snapped.

"You heard them convicting me. But even now if you ask them to provide proofs against me, they won't be able to. Because there is no proof," Hermione said and added in her mind, _'as I have taken care of that.'_

"I heard them! They said you killed her," Ron shouted but this time with less conviction.

"Ron, you and I, we both know how the ministry works. They are trying to hide the truth, Ron," Hermione said earnestly.

"Then what is the truth?" Ron said as he half lowered his wand arm.

"Lavender," Hermione paused as if she was collecting her thoughts while the others present in the room watched the drama unfold afraid to interrupt in case their volatile temper caused substantial harm, "she wanted an out."

"What do you mean?" Ron snapped.

"She was a nobody, Ron. A nobody. Like you used to be. She wanted her share of fame," Hermione explained softly as Ron stared at her confusedly.

"She wanted to be killed?" Ron shouted as Hermione's words sunk in.

"She wanted a part of your fame. What you earned from your exploits. She was a poor victim of Greyback. But Astoria's treatment helped her out. She wanted to be your trophy wife. She wanted to be the one who gave you wanted the most- a family," Hermione continued.

"When why did you take her away from me?" Ron cried out, tears streaming down his face as he slumped down on the floor with his head cradled in his hands, the wand lying beside him, abandoned in sorrow.

"I didn't take her away. I was just at the wrong place at the wrong time. Like I always am. I went to her to give her a book when I learnt at the St. Mungo's that she was expecting your child. And I found her lying there dead on the floor. Mud flowing out of her eyes like tears. Swollen body. Fluffed up with a dead life inside her. Dead like what she felt inside," Hermione said as she crouched next to Ron, talking to him softly.

None of the Aurors tried to move, busy taking in the drama that was unfolding in front of them. Harry was too much in a shock to comprehend anything that was happening while Draco and Astoria looked like a couple out of the Hallmark greeting cards smiling down at the scene in front of them.

"But- but I heard that you were cleaning up the world?" Ron whimpered.

"Is that what you heard? I am so sorry you had to hear that. I didn't mean any of it. I didn't kill anyone. And Lavender. She- she was pregnant and when I went to give her the book her magic flared up. She said she wanted to be someone like me. Because of you, Ron. You always wanted me. So she wanted to be me. Even if it is for a moment just so that you would make her your priority for once. I clearly remember she said she wished that despite being a Pureblood she wished to become a mudblood like me if that garnered your attention. Your love," Hermione said softly with a voice filled with fake sympathy.

"She said that?" Ron asked.

"She did. So you see I am not the cause of her death. You are. Because she wanted your love. By becoming me. A mudblood. She wanted her blood to be mud. She became so, pregnancy magic wanted to give the expecting mother exactly what the mother wanted. Don't you realise? You didn't even want to marry her before you learnt she was giving you an heir. It was her magic's influence. And her death was also her magic's influence. Ask any Healer. They'll answer you the same," Hermione finished with a smirk.

"So I—" Ron began.

"Yes, you killed her, dear Ron," Hermione whispered back.

"I think that's enough. Take her away, please," Kingsley said loudly startling the Aurors present there. Kingsley did notice how they responded a little late to him now. As if they were second guessing his words. "What happened? Take her away!" Kingsley repeated again jolting the Aurors into action.

Ron sat there by a couple of Aurors crying his heart out for the girls in his life who have butchered his heart into ribbons. Draco had his arms around his wife, their faces bidding farewell to Hermione as she was made to wear the magic restraining cuffs around her wrist. Harry saw the people he knew since he was eleven fall apart in ways he never imagined. Ron was just a push away from the mental breakdown (thanks to the insidious work of the Horcrux) and Hermione was the shove that threw him off the edge. She almost turned him suicidal. Harry had no clue what went wrong, how it went wrong. He was rubbing the temples' of his head tightly as if to elevate a headache that seemed to have made a home in his head. He didn't notice when Hermione glided towards him making all the Aurors raise their wands to defend the Boy-Who-Lived. But Hermione merely walked up and close to Harry and placed her cheek alongside his stubble ones, startling him. She raised her mouth to his ears and closely whispered,

"I hope you suffer."

Harry shot back to stare incredulously at Hermione as her soft laughter filled the office that seemed strangely in harmony with Ron's sobbing.

* * *

Hermione Granger is, was and will be a bloody know-it-all. Acting on her whim, like she was doing these days, she bribed the nurse to overhear the very private conversation between the Minister and the Healer and more bribe brought her the exclusive file on the Institute where they were sending her. It seemed like the Minister of Magic, Head Auror and the Head Healer at St. Mungo's wanted to make a monster out of a petty freak. Not her fault at all, let this be on their heads. Like Tom Riddle and Grindelwald were Dumbledore's. That bribe also brought her a bonus: the news of Lavender's pregnancy.

One stone, two birds.

As she had put up no struggle when the Aurors apparated her to some desolate building where a Portkey took her to the rendezvous point. They had already broken her fake wand, which she had given to the Aurors on arriving at the Minister's office, and with a stunning hex at her way as soon as she reached there, they packed her up prim and proper and using another Portkey, they transferred her to Arkham. There are hardly any Wizarding folks there as they deemed that city way too dangerous to live in (yes, she had researched about the city. What use would getting the file by bribing be if she didn't research about the place she was going to get deported to?).

The Aurors arrived at the entrance of the asylum. From there, the Muggle security guards escorted her after handcuffing her the muggle way as the magic cuffs faded away and shoving her inside. A group of heavily armed guards formed a loose square around her and another man who was escorted alongside her. With a light shove on the back, they told her to move it. Hermione rolled her eye at their antics.

 _'_ _As if that would intimidate me. If I wanted, I could have blasted their heads off their shoulder. But, it would be better for me if I was lying a little low now.'_

"What's got you petite thing here?" the other 'escortee' asked me.

"Medical help," Hermione replied coolly.

"You sure you're at the right place?" he asked with fake concern.

"Who knows? They never proved it was me," Hermione answered innocently.

"Shut up both of you or I shall put a muzzle on both of you," a guard snapped.

"Ohhhh… kinky," Hermione smartass-ed which earned her a rough shove with the muzzle of a gun.

The security was pretty tight at Arkham which was something that she had expected. The guards who escorted her handled her person very roughly (again), but that was also expected. It was an asylum for the criminally insane after all. The handcuff was cutting into her wrist and the guard uniforms were ghastly blue and the prisoners another ghastly orange which reminded her of the Weasleys.

 _'_ _Really, these Americans really lacked taste.'_

The female staff had her checked pretty thoroughly- yes, had her stripped down too. All in the name of security. Though, Hermione suspected strongly she was lesbian because she seemed to enjoy her stripping a little too much. So Hermione decided to make it worth her while too. Hermione gave her a strip tease that had the guard lady's breathing heavily. The checking involved a lot of touching and…caressing. When she dressed up again, she couldn't resist giving the guard a saucy wink. Her smirk said it all. Hermione laughed as she was escorted away from the examination room. She was having fun already.

The asylum was a circular labyrinth with many levels and she assumed she was being sent to the furthest wing in the highest level which held the most ferocious criminals. On the way, she saw that there were many behind plain bars but there were some who were behind reinforced glass and looked decidedly saner than their plain bar counterparts.

They were in a corridor with a fenced wall on one side that opened into the courtyard. And what a scene that was. Utter chaos in its truest form. And the alarms weren't even activated by then. But just then the alarm bared and the emergency red light was switched on flooding the place in a hue of red. It did nothing to mute the spanning blood bath. The guards accompanying Hermione pulled out a metallic gun and placed it on her neck shooting her with a sedative. But the normal sedative dose didn't knock her out cold it only made her a little woozy. The world was blurring around her and she was positive she was seeing double of everything. Damn… those guards were fast. Hermione noted in her mind to avoid this the next time.

Somebody ran past her, shoving her towards the fence when a splatter of blood landed on her face. Scrunching her face in disgust, Hermione tried to wipe her face as much as possible with her cuffed hands. She tried to hold her ground as she felt a crowd of people push past her. Trying to shield herself, clumsily, she staggered inside the bloody courtyard- which was literally and physically bloody. All Hermione could see was blurry figures running hither and thither in a background of red. She held the fence door beside her and clung to it. It felt like Hermione had the worst hangover possible. She wasn't this hangover even after Astoria's atrocious hen party. She felt her magic snapping out of her forming a protective cocoon around her to protect from the debris-flesh, blood, random teeth or some grey matter- flying around.

The tranquillizers effect would fade in a minute or two until then she would just have to lie low. She crab-walked along the fence wall until she reached the corner, then she stood with her back to the wall, and grabbed the fence to keep her balance. The corner was not a popular place to be, most prisoners who hesitated to participate in the massacre were picked to be played with and those who participated got picked according to the pecking order. Hermione slowly shook her head to stop the world from blurring anymore when a springy girl (woman?) hopped next to her with the grace of an acrobat.

"Hi there, newbie!" the acrobatic woman greeted Hermione.

Hermione just gave her a shaky nod of her head.

"Not social, are you?" She asked with a frown.

" 's not tha'. I'm tranq-ed," Hermione slurred.

"Oh, I see," then she went quiet and turned to see the on-going carnage.

Some prisoners got hold of iron rods and were bashing the heads of the guards. Some were fighting with their bare hands and some stole the equipment of the guards and were using it against the guards. A guard was running with his body up in flames. There was this peculiar prisoner who mauling the guards with his bare hands and… jaws. The other was flipping a coin very expertly and was taking action in accordance with the result of the coin's face. He even seemed to have a very grotesque face on just one side. And there was a man in a space-suit like ensemble who was freezing people up. _'Where did he get that suit from in such short time? And did I just see Venomous Tentacula wrapping the guards up?'_

Both of them kept staring at the unfolding scene- one with amusement and the other with surprise.

 _'_ _The ministry sent me here to get 'better'. Guess the joke will be on them.'_

"Uh-huh. So rude of me," she began again turning to face Hermione, "I am Harley. That had handsome son o' a gun you see there is my puddin'. And you are?"

"Hermione," Hermione replied as she finally came out of the tranquillizer's effect.

"That's a mouthful…but beautiful," Harley said with a silly grin.

"Thank you."

"Oh, oh! You are British. Love that accent. Makes you sound sooo posh!" Harley said as she grabbed Hermione's hand and turned towards the centre and shouted, "Puddin! Puddin! Meet my new friend! She's British and posh!"

A man in green hair and pale white skin turned to face them. It was anyone's guess that he was the "puddin'" Harley was taking about. His face was splattered with a maniacal grin that accompanied the glint in his eyes.

"Is it, Sugar?" He shouted back.

"Yes, yes. She's so polite, too," Harley answered him as she rocked back and forth on her heel with her arm wrapped around Hermione's arm.

He quickly approached them but was jolted back as if tasered when he was within five feet of them.

"Sorry, my fault. Could help but create a safe house in this corner," Hermione explained as the guy shook off the light shock and approached them again.

"So you did that?" He asked.

"I did," Hermione replied.

"Ain't she so fun? I am telling you we are going to be the bestest friends ever. Ain't we, honey?" Harley asked the guy for a confirmation.

"Sure, Luv."

"My baaaad," Harley said dragging the word, "This is my Puddin'. Puddin', this is…" Harley paused as she tried to recall Hermione's name.

"Hermione," Hermione provided.

"Yeah, Hermione," Harley added.

"Pleasure to meet you, my lady," the guy said with a devilish smirk as he took Hermione's free hand and placed a kiss on her knuckles.

"Can't say the same for you," Hermione replied as Harley frowned.

"Why not, Hermione?" Harley asked in a childish whine.

"I can't exactly call your man with the name that you use, can I?" Hermione explained as Harley tried to understand what was wrong.

"Hah! I like her already. Ma'am, I am the greatest agent of chaos, Joker. At your service," Joker replied with a mock bow which Hermione replied to with a short curtsey.

"I like her too. She's nice," Harley said with finality.

"Now if you ladies excuse me, I have got work to do," Joker said as he plunged a piece of broken glass into the barely exposed neck of the guard, who was unfortunate enough to come within their corner spot, splattering them with his blood.

"Puddin! That wasn't nice. I am wet now," Harley squealed as she shook her hands and legs to get rid of the blood.

"I like you in red," Joker replied and then his tone dropped an octave, "And I like you wet. Now see, you are wet in red," and he laughed in the patented way madman laugh.

Harley joined him with her girlish giggles and Hermione merely shook her head as she tried to wipe the blood on her. Though a smile crept into her face. Not even a day has passed here and she already made a friend.

 _'_ _Looks like I will have more luck here than in Hogwarts. Fingers crossed.'_

* * *

Harley dragged Hermione on to meet new people. Some were a tad busy breaking necks, hands and legs of the poor guards, some were busy making a run for it but there were some who were not partaking in the violence rather they were enjoying the view. There was only this one guy who blew something onto the face of anyone who approached him or had the misfortune of landing near him. And whatever he blew onto them, it was certainly not a flying kiss. The people went slack for some moment and screamed as if under Cruciatus, maybe even more horrifically.

That drew Hermione's attention and as she tried to go to him like a moth to a flame, Harley tightened her hold on Hermione and shook her head like a strict mother trying to discipline her errant child.

"No, no, Mio. You are not going to meet him, just now." She said.

"Why not? He looks fascinating," Hermione replied struggling against her iron grip.

"Well, he's the Scarecrow. And right now, he's scaring his crows. So unless you want to be a scared crow, you wouldn't want to meet him," she explained.

"That thing he's blowing on people's face—" Hermione began.

"Induces fear like nothing else. Once, Ivy got a whiff of his terror fume, poor girl had to be taken into an isolated cell to get treated. Then I counselled her and now she's as right as rain," Harley said as she picked up a steel rod that rolled to a stop at her feet.

"You counselled her? Are you a counsellor?" Hermione asked wanting to know more about this girl-oops-woman.

"No, silly. I am psychiatrist here. Was… before he," she pointed her finger at Joker, who was bashing someone's head with the buckles in his straitjacket, "drove me crazy in his love." Her voice turned soft in the end.

"That landed you here?" I asked unable to kerb my curiosity.

" Joker and I were having fun in the town, and Bam! The Bat drops in uninvited and plays the bad guy and separates us. Then, Joker joined me in. He can't live without me, you see," Harley answered as she hopped a little forward to slam the rod into the back of the head of a guard.

"The bat? How can a bat land you here?" Hermione asked as she cast a weak shield that would keep the _debris_ away from her.

'I didn't want to get so dirty without even playing.'

"Oh Em Jee! You don't know about the bat?" she sharply turned towards me and asked shocked.

Hermione shook her head.

"You have got sooooo much to learn, girl," she replied as she shook her head in defeat, "But what gotcha here?"

"They said I needed help. So, here I am," Hermione replied vaguely.

"I have to listen to that story," she began as a piercing whistle was heard in the background, "but now, we gotta play possum."

"What is that inhuman sound?" Hermione said as that sound nearly deafened me.

"The Punisher," Harley spat.

Hermione merely raised her brow at that.

 _'_ _Americans…'_

The noise was driving Hermione crazy. She could see the inmates fall one by one like flies; falling on their knees and curling into themselves. Only some hardened ones were the ones who could still resist the urge. The hardened-s and Harley and Hermione.

Hermione could only keep casting the privacy spell, but there was ultrasonic as well as subsonic noise which kept dismantling her spell in ten seconds or so.

Harley noticed the fluctuating noise decibels first and looked at her questioningly but didn't ask anything. She grinned at Hermione and nodded. Seeing an armoured special unit enter the area, Hermione dropped her spell and the full blown noise hit her. Her face screwed up on hearing that. Harley theatrically raised her hands above her head and dropped it abruptly only to cover her ears. Hermione decided to face the full blown effect of the noise. Besides, there was a pattern to that noise, so it wasn't a noise to her anymore. It became an irritating commercial jingle to her, so Hermione began humming it slowly. Then her eyes darted towards the last people standing. There was this reptilian looking guy whose body was dripping in blood and it was easy to guess that it wasn't his. Then there was Joker and few human looking guys. Some women were standing there too, but they all had covered their ears with their hands.

Hermione turned to face the special unit guards who were pouring in and were securing the threat when she felt that she was being stared at. She turned and found the scare-guy staring pointedly at her. Hermione mouthed 'what?' at him, but he just shook his head and then the unit people roughly tranquillized him. Someone grabbed Harley and Hermione but they didn't tranq-ed them as they were not in the deep of it. But that guy, despite being sedated, his eyes remained oddly focused. Focused on Hermione.

"Woohoo! You got an admirer already," Harley shouted as she was being carried away in a fireman's haul since she kept slipping away like a fish.

"Shush you," Hermione said not realising her cheeks getting red.

"Oh, look at that. Would you look at that! A blushing English Rose. Rose with her thorns intact," she gave a final shout as they turned the corner and the guard escorting Hermione turned towards the other corner.

 _'_ _Thorny rose indeed. Let's see if I can bloom here better or not.'_

* * *

 **T.B.C...**


	6. Chapter 5

**Guess who's back? Back again. QueenVulca's back! Tell a friend!**

 **Yup, I am back for only the moment.** **So starting this Which excuse's on air, anyway? show with excuse no. 6.**

 **Excuse 6: Queen was busy. She had tonnes of assignments and as soon as she handed them over, her exams began. But she wrote this chapter down whenever she had time. Tea breaks, coffee breaks and breaks. Also, her muse ran away with a gun bucking, shirtless Tomione plunny hunk. So there is a gangster Tomione in the wings. It's almost done. And for this...its just 2 more chapters short of the end. So it's also almost done. I hope to chalk out the next chapter but don't be surprised if this goes un-updated for a month or more. This chapter was made extra long, yes, 8.4k words, just to sate the thirst. In the meantime, you guys can check out some of my one-shots.**

 **Hope you guys like this chapter. A lil review never hurt anyone but it makes my day. I didn't give it out for beta-ing to fasten the process. But it'll be done later.**

 **My love to Puja, Shubham and WinchesterGranger! You guys are awesome! :***

* * *

 **Chapter 5**

Brian was allotted today's shift after the mass riot that had to be brought under control by the Punisher himself. If this went on, then probably Batman would have to be called to control the next riot. Brian really didn't want to work in this wretched prison anymore. He must have pulled the shortest stick in the job allotment after the Police Academy training. But the pay was good. Damn good. Compensation for a job that had a bad liability of getting you killed on duty. He rolled his eyes and went his way to check the cells on the women's block. At least they seemed a little tamer than their male counterparts.

He took out his Taser and went his way to patrol. Thanks to the glass wall that didn't make him personally stick his face in the door hole that was the surprise outlet for many prisoners. Why his colleague John got his face clawed when he veered too close to the door hole before the new glass wall upgrade.

He breathed deeply and adopted a confident gait to his walk and started his patrol along the long, dark, gloomy corridor of horror. He gulped but didn't falter.

 _'_ _Harley is busy giggling to jokes only she can hear, Catwoman is snarled at him as he passed by, the new English woman is busy reading piles of books on a cosy sofa, Poison Ivy is—Hold that thought!'_

Brian quickly backtracked his way only to see the British woman still reading something but on the standard mattress on the floor. He shook his head as if to dislodge the illusion he saw. This job was really getting into his head. In a bad way. Next employees meeting, he was definitely asking for a transfer. Brian quickly walked out of the corridor failing to see the smirk that adorned the British woman's face.

. . .

Prison life was…boring. But she had three wonderful people (if she can call them that) to talk to. Harley was a fun person and Selina was a charming conversationalist and Poison Ivy aka Pamela is a doctorate. Such educated people (except Selina. She's street smart) in this place. Behind bars…er…glass wall. Looks like knowledge lands you behind bars. They all had a good laugh at that. All those years gruelling against odds, striving for academic pinnacle only to find ourselves in a six by eight room. With a glass front. And a pitiful excuse of a ventilator. And of course the 'Au naturale' bathroom. No privacy at all. Selina was a cat, she didn't care. Harley would have made a show out of it if she could, Ivy had her plants and Hermione had her magic.

It had been three days until she got a beckon from the prison's psychiatrist, Dr Strange. The name said it all for the type of things that happened to people here. A guard came to guide her out and there was another accompanying him. Just two guards. Her lack of participation in that riot must have marked her as a harmless crazy. Not to mention the fact that she was an "outsider" here. Anyways, she dusted her baggy trousers for invisible lint and stretched her hands towards one who quickly bound her wrists with a cuff and pulled her out of her cell.

As she walked down, Harley gave a woot as a greeting. Hermione wiggled her brows at her and walked away with the guards.

. . .

The whole atmosphere of the asylum is more gloomy than creepy to her. The corridors were dark despite the ample lighting provided. She had read about this building's history: it had an illustrious history, though one tainted with blood. As she walked by, she saw some cells had a glass front and some with wooden doors that had a wired opening. Looks like her file had rated her a 'deadly prisoner' cell. They reached a chamber that had a waiting bench adjacent to it. The guard motioned her to sit, so she took a seat and tried to take in the surroundings. A beautiful mansion turned into an asylum for criminally insane. The founder had later become a patient here. Hermione scoffed and shook her head at the irony. The chamber room opened and the middle-aged bald man with a beard that bordered the outline of his jaw came out. He had a pair of yellow-tinted spectacles perched close to his eyes and in the smoothest voice Hermione had ever heard, he told her to enter. He nodded subtly at the guards and they nodded back. Hermione's cuff was removed and she rubbed her wrists as she got inside the room. The man followed her in and closed the door behind them.

"Hello, I am Dr Hugo Strange, chief of psychiatry here at Arkham Asylum," the psychiatrist said extending his hands for a handshake.

Hermione gave that hand one slight glance and then grasped it in a handshake. "Hermione Granger, co-founder of a law firm based in London."

The doctor merely nodded his head and motioned her to take a seat. Hermione gracefully sat down and crossed her legs at her ankle and remained posed upright. The doctor took out a file and flipped pages through it. His eyes roved over the pages rather quickly.

"It says that you have been convicted of murders of eleven people. Says you have...a serial killing...tendency," Hugo stated pausing at some words deliberately.

"They haven't proved it yet," Hermione replied with a shrug.

"That means you do confess that you have killed them?" Hugo asked raising a fine eyebrow out of his tinted glasses.

"It means there was no proof," Hermione corrected calmly.

"A perfect crime then?" Hugo asked again.

"Innocent until proved otherwise," Hermione scowled.

Hugo hummed and closed the file keeping it back in its place.

"I'll have you know that Arkham has the best facilities to help you cope with any problem that you might be having," Hugo said almost automatedly.

Hermione hummed in answer, instead of busy in taking in the décor of the office. The office was longish with windows on one side and a high chest of drawers on the other- probably filled with files of patients. The room was very impersonal save for some certificates hanging in the background.

"We shall talk in details, later on, Ms Granger," Hugo said and Hermione's head snapped towards him in rapt attention.

Hermione stared at him with wide eyes taking in his impassive face. Hugo titled his head and Hermione blinked and came back to herself.

She nodded to her herself. "Yes, sure. Next time, doctor."

Hugo gave a long single nod and Hermione got out of her chair and walked out of the door.

"Patient no. 7842/B by the name of Hermione Granger," Hugo Strange began his voice note. "The patient exhibits normal behaviour but there are some trigger words that causes a lapse in her normalcy. The patient has been diagnosed as showing violent signs of dementia and multiple personality disorder. Though I beg to differ. The patient is perfectly normal. Well, a perfectly normal psychopath that is."

* * *

"How did your appointment go?" Harley asked from the cell across Hermione's.

"Boring," Hermione replied back reclining on her eazy chair with a fat tome of Noble house of Black's Magic history. Reading through it, it didn't faze her that Bellatrix turned out the way she did. The magical behind-the-scene details about the creation of Blood Boiling Curse were a fascinating read.

"Girl, where did you manage to get that chair? They never give **me** anything. I did kill for a coffee machine," Harley commented seeing Hermione dig deeper into the plump and comfortable-looking eazy chair as Harley swung lightly on her swing made of a bedsheet.

"Magic," Hermione answered not looking up from her book.

"Really? Magic?" shouted out Pamela shouted out from the cell adjacent to Hermione's.

"You control plants yet you don't believe the existence of magic?" Hermione asked still reading her book.

"It's just that she hasn't seen any of your funky tricks you know," Harley helpfully supplied.

"Yes, I wouldn't mind seeing one," Pamela replied.

"Me too. I am too bored. Hit me with a trick," Selina added from the other adjacent cell.

"You guys just won't let me read, will you?" Hermione sighed as she snapped her book shut and got up from her seat. The chair vanished with a pop! And she flung her book to the side where it disappeared with a whoosh!

"Let's have a sleepover. What do you say?" Hermione asked rubbing her hands in anticipation.

"Yes, please. We'll gossip, braid each other's hair, have pillow fights in our underwear and- and-" Harley rumbled on.

"I wouldn't mind seeing Harley in her underwear. She does have a fantastic ass," Pamela commented.

"I would love a good stretch too," Selina said.

"Okay. Now everybody stand in the middle of their rooms, please," Hermione requested spreading her arms but clawing her hands. A strong gust picked up that ruffled all the inmates' hair.

"Okaaaaaay, she's like really doing it!" Harley clapped her hands jumping a little in her place as she watched Hermione whose hair was standing on the edge, static sparking at the end. The plaster of the walls trembled and like a hot knife coming out of butter, the bricks seamlessly came out to rearrange. The whole wing slowly transformed into a luxurious suite. The thread bare bed sheets and thin mattresses turned into fluffy mattresses with lots of pillows. The ceramic toilet bowls transfused and turned into a deep Jacuzzi tub. The windows got enlarged to French windows with thick curtains. It was a totally furnished suite in a five-star hotel for a girls night out.

"Would you look at that?! Yippee! I haven't been to a place like this in ages!" Harley squealed, jumping all the way towards the fluffy beds. She gave a mighty leap and landed in the middle bouncing a little along with the pillows. " This…is nice," Harley murmured snuggling into the pillows.

"I am impressed," Selina said as she joined Harley on the bed.

Hermione swayed a little in her place and sat heavily on her usual eazy chair that appeared just as she started to sit down through the empty air.

"Now if we had some snacks, it would be perfect," Selina commented pulling a fluffy blanket towards her.

"I have some seeds and water. If Ivy can," Hermione left off looking at Pamela who sat still standing away from the bed, not believing her eyes.

Ivy pulled herself up when she heard the challenge in Hermione's voice.

"Of course, I can," Ivy huffed, crossing her arms.

Hermione reached into her pocket and pulled out a purse and gave it to Ivy.

"The names are written on the zip lock pouches. Imma take a-yawn-a nap now," Hermione said as her chair reclined backwards and a light blanket flew towards her and covered her. Hermione promptly fell into a cat nap.

"Poor girl is soooo tired now," Harley said getting up. She walked up to Hermione and lightly caressed her hair. "Such soft hair." Harley sighed.

"So the snacks?" Selina asked raising a brow at Pamela.

Pamela just rolled her eyes.

It was a good girl's night out. The fruits were absolutely delicious. Juicy with an exotic taste. Hermione had joined the feast after a fifteen-minute power nap. Selina moaned as she bit into a star fruit that was blood red on the inside. Harley giggled the apple juice dribbled past her chin when she bit into her green apple. Pamela was appreciating the fruits of her labour and Hermione watched all these with a smile rivalling that of a cat that got the cream. She tore a grape from a bunch and popped it in her mouth, the smug smile again settling on her face.

"These are seeds of the utmost quality. These have not been touched by what passes as fertilisers and pesticides these days," Pamela commented suckling on her half of the orange.

"My friend grew them. He tended them with his own hands, no magic. Loved them like his children and nurtured them with love and a dash of Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata," Hermione answered in a faraway voice, clearly lost in a flashback.

"And where is he now?" Pamela asked very much interested to know about a guy who was passionate about plants.

"He's a professor at my old school. Neville had a heart of gold. But the meddling interference of the school governors in his personal herbology work has left him demotivated. These were the last batch of his plant's seeds before the governors razed his personal herbology lab citing a weed infestation caused by his hybrid plant residue," Hermione scoffed. "As if Neville can't take care of a weed problem."

Pamela looked pissed on hearing that and Selina just nodded her head. The pensive mood broke when Harley gave a loud giggle and said dreamily, "See those mallets? They are juuuuuuust like Mistah J's. Oh, oh, oh! Look my acid playing cards!" Harley raised her hand in the air, lying on her back on the bed, to catch an invisible card. "Be careful, guys! Those burn!"

"What did she eat?"

"Must have been a hybridised grapefruit. Neville was looking for an anti-hallucinogen. He might have found a mild fun crack instead," Hermione said as she watched Harley pivot around the 'suite'.

"I think I could do with a high now. A nice glass of wine would have been a good touch, you know," Selina said as she sauntered her way towards the oddly bright green grapefruit.

Hermione shrugged and watched her cell friends enjoy the fruits Neville worked so hard for. He would be very pleased to know that his experiments are appreciated and enjoyed here. She'll be sure to add this in her next letter to Draco. That pesky rat did deliver her letter to an owl but he nibbled on it a bit. Buck-toothed nibbling hooligan!

* * *

"Welcome again, Ms Granger," Dr Hugo greeted motioning Hermione to take a seat before him.

It was a couple of days after their first meeting and today they were supposed to start their sessions. Some good that'll do. In Hermione's opinion, the man was insane himself but hid that very well behind the mask of professionalism. He was too smart for anyone's good.

Hermione nodded and took her seat.

"Tea?" Hugo asked as he went towards the tea tray to get a cup of tea.

"Yes, please," Hermione replied. On being asked how she preferred it, she replied a curt with a dash of lime and two cubes of sugar. Sweet and sour, just like her.

Taking a sip of the hot beverage, Hermione silently appreciated the well-made tea. One wouldn't know they made good tea in America. How surprising.

Hugo carefully noted all her behaviour and took mental note of how sophisticatedly she behaved.

"Today, I am going to ask you some questions and I hope you answer them honestly," Hugo began opening a notepad to dot things down.

Hermione nodded in reply.

"It says in your file that you have killed over eleven people in cold blood. Please explain your motive."

"Just like that?" Hermione asked instead. "I am just supposed to explain why it happened?"

"I have seen that you deny killing them and that you **insisted** that you have been framed. Any reason behind it?"

"Ummm… maybe because I didn't do it," Hermione replied slowly as if explaining something to a dull person.

"You are deluding no one here, Ms Granger," Hugo said as he watched Hermione's eyes tighten a little around the corner.

"You and I both know what's what here. By not accepting the truth, you are hindering your own health. Ms Granger, you have been sent here to get well. If you keep denying the truth about yourself then you would be doing no progress. In fact, you would be doing injustice to yourself. You have to learn to _embrace_ yourself. Your true self."

"You mean by being a killer everybody is supposing me to be?" Hermione asked sceptically.

"No. It means it's time for you to be who you are supposed to be," Hugo replied cryptically.

The two sessions after that were pretty much the same. What, why, when, and some more why. Hermione knew that Hugo was not another silly shrink. He was sly, probably more than Salazar Slytherin himself. She had seen that a man who had completed his sessions with Hugo had bit off his own tongue when Hugo had counselled him to be more soft spoken since he often instigated inmates with his words. Hugo was dangerous. And Hermione needed to be very cautious of him.

Unlike other days, Hermione's session took place in a sterilised lab this time. A nurse escorted her to the room when she thought she was being taken to the counselling chamber. It had pristine white walls, medical tools and equipment, the long unfriendly check-up table with stirrups. And in that stirrup was a man.

Hermione took in everything and then turned to Hugo who was sporting a getup that clearly belonged in the operation theatre.

"Well, Hermione, this is going to be your first interactive session," Dr Hugo said turning around to fiddle at a table that surely had medical tools given the clinking sound of metal.

"As for what? Playing doctor?" Hermione asked sarcastically.

"No. To act upon what you feel the best."

"I don't feel like playing doctor."

"This man," Hugo began ignoring Hermione's quip, "is a sexual assaulter. He has this...perversion of sexually assaulting pre-teen children." At Hermione's incredulous look, he assured, "yes, yes. You heard it right. Children. So far he has killed over ten children and maimed and mauled around five children."

"But why are you telling **me** this?"

"It wasn't hard looking for the details of the people you killed. Though a couple were pretty hard. Confidential matter I have been told. And noted that the people you kill are…offenders. They all had skeletons in their closet. Some small, some big. But they all did have them. You are not a killer, oh no no… you are a vigilante. A morally _ambiguous_ vigilante. You just need a little guidance," Hugo said in the smoothest voice he could manage. He knew the effect a soft word had rather than the jolting effect of a harsh tone. Soft voice managed to sink in like a fish hook and plunge in deep before you even knew what happened. "You were meant to do this, Ms Granger."

"Stop calling me Ms Granger!" Hermione snarled not taking in anything but the patronising way he called her.

"You are this vigilante that the world _needs._ We do have our local help… but a person of calibre is the only one who can view this situation from a different point of view."

Hermione was breathing heavily now. Her fingers were spasming, twitching to grab her wand that was long gone.

"You don't realise your own potential. You are a saint among these sinners. A messiah among these leaderless. You are going to guide them, you shall give them the justice they deserve and they need. Do it, Ms Granger. Free this trapped soul. Show him the light."

"I am not a caged animal! You can't make me do things! I do things on my own accord, you hear that! My. Own. Accord! Not yours! Not Dumbledore's! Not Ronald's! Not McGonagall! Not anyone but MINE! Is that CLEAR TO YOU?!" Hermione shouted herself hoarse with that.

The orderlies quickly entered the room and grabbed Hermione from behind. But that did little good. She blasted them away from her stalking her way towards Hugo who was standing on the other side of the examination table. The strapped man was shouting through his gag but only made some muffled noise that went unheard. Hugo looked unaffected save for the annoyed look on his face. He had, after all, lost an important manipulation trick. It had worked smoothly in past for almost everyone. But then again, not everyone was the same. All his work down the drain. A horse too wild to break in. A little too wild. His eyes rolled on their own, thinking about the work he had to redo. He rubbed his hands lightly and motioned the guard to shot her with a tranquilizer. They'll work on it again sometime. He wasn't called the best in his field just like that. He would tame this animal. Just like he had done with all his special gems.

Hermione's hair was coiling like serpents, sparks crackling on her exposed skin and an inferno blazing behind her eyes. But as the strong tranq started working inside Hermione, the strong blast of dry and arid wind and the abrupt electric shocks that the orderlies, who were holding her, got first hand stopped right away. As they dragged the unconscious woman away- who looked no older than a teenager when asleep-

Hugo knew he would have to improvise. He hadn't had a good challenge for a long time. This one would be his masterpiece. As Hermione finally succumbed to the effects of the tranq, Hugo instructed, "Allow her some yard time tomorrow. She'll need some fresh air. It'll do her good," the orderlies nodded and they carried Hermione away to her cell.

Hugo was going to give himself a day off today to retreat and regroup and then...attack.

* * *

When Hermione came around, she was in a bad mood. How dare that bald old man try to cohere her into being his puppet! The insolence! What does he think himself to be? Hermione was pretty pissed off for the remaining day. Though she joined the cell to form the suite again, she didn't participate much in the merry making. And sensing her dark clouds nobody disturbed her either except for giving her the share of her goodies. Harley wanted to talk to her but Pamela stopped her given they knew a slice of what Hermione can do. It was better not to irritate her further.

The next day Hermione was escorted to the exercise yard along with others- the 'not-so-harmless' crazies. The only people to get this privilege were the non-violent one. As she walked into the yard, she spotted that mysterious scare guy lounging at the fence on the side.

Hermione looked around. The grass under their feet was artificial. Even the wildflowers were fake. Hermione sneered at the offending plastic. Must be something to do with Pamela's powers. Hermione softly kicked the grass and ambled towards the other side ignoring the scare guy. She knew others preferred the left side of the yard to avoid the surveillance camera on the right. But it was of no use, the orderlies accompanied by guards and a doctor kept a rapt attention on them. Also, the muggle cameras or video recorders had a problem filming her given the interference from her magical aura. She neared the chain link and showed her back to the camera focusing on conjuring a bluebell fire. It was a nice feeling exercising her magic. She didn't get enough practice here.

So lost in her own world, Hermione didn't even notice when the scare guy approached her.

"Good morning," he greeted her.

Hermione twirled around, arms out in front with her fingers splayed at him with the blue flame rising with a flash, aggressively reaching out to the supposed hostile threat. She eyed him from head to toe and the flames died down immediately.

"Metahuman, huh?" He asked his eyes showing a little appreciation.

Hermione didn't answer but she nodded her head nonetheless.

"How rude of me," he began, "I am Dr Jonathan Crane. But people like to call me the scarecrow."

"Hermione Granger." Hermione curtly introduced herself.

"And what brought you here?" He asked looking extremely intrigued.

Hermione looked at him from beneath her lashes. He was a lanky and a tall person. But despite his thin stature, he was...intimidating- for the lack of better words. His presence was icy and his persona did nothing to break the ice. Hermione was very, very intrigued.

"I was framed,"

"Were you?"

"Why does nobody believe me here?"

"Because everybody is innocent here. In their own minds."

"Well then, I am innocent until proven otherwise."

"Now that's better. So what was your crime?"

"Trimming the shrubs, weeding the weeds," Hermione said with a shrug.

"Social work, I see,"

Hermione nodded with a slight smile.

Jonathan hugged her and placed his mouth near her ears, "Hope you have a good time here." And very deliberately, he kissed her right on her mouth. And as he kissed her, he slipped his tongue inside Hermione's lips parted by her involuntary gasp. Hermione was shocked. Surprised and shocked but she responded…a bit. There was no reason other than the fact that she found him...attractive. He stroked his tongue confidently against her's and she responded by curling her tongue around his. The kiss left her dizzy and he pulled back with a smug smile and walked away with a swagger before the guards noticed their diligence. Hermione knew she took a chance kissing someone who loved to scare people to death. But she couldn't help herself. She wanted to scratch that itch that has been surfacing of late.

She watched him get escorted back to his cell. But before he went away, he gave her a chilling smirk.

Maybe, she shouldn't have taken that chance.

* * *

Hermione's cellmates knew Hermione had a shitty session with that wretched psychiatrist but they didn't imagine the bad mood will last this long. They were the most worried about her, in their own way ever since she came back from the walk in the yard.

Hermione had started mumbling to herself since then. She seemed to talk to someone. Not just talk but argue and debate and sometimes placating someone.

More often than not they found her calling out the names Fred, Tonks, Remus. Even someone called Dobby. Must be a dead but loved pet. Oh, and something called Crookstank or something. One day, they saw her bawling her eyes out and the other day she was vehemently quarrelling with someone.

"I was too young to be in that damn war in the first place, Fred. Even you were too young. What did you expect? That I would be a hero saving everyone I love with a spin of the time turner? Newsflash, lost twin! It was taken away by the authorities. It was merely a means of education!"

Obviously, the whole conversation was taking place in her head so her 'friends' didn't hear the reply but whatever it was it caused Hermione to calm down a bit. And abruptly she became sad. It caused whiplash in all her cell mates. They had never seen her fluctuate like this. She was the calmest, logical and sanest person among them. But then again, if she wasn't like them, she wouldn't have been here at Arkham in the first place.

Poor girl had cried herself to sleep now. Probably the next morning shall be brighter for her.

Unfortunately, the fickle moods of one Hermione Granger didn't dissipate even after a day or two. And it was becoming a little annoying for them now. Ivy merely asked how Hermione was once in a while but Selina gave her one look after Hermione woke up after a black out and declared that she wasn't insane enough to deal with a witch with mood swings. She did, however, keep a sharp eye on her. Harley sometimes conversed with Hermione. They had the strangest conversation that made the other two woman second guess themselves. It was hard finding out on which side of sanity you were while staying at Arkham. Every day they were toeing the line. Pity, they didn't know they were all on the other side of the line.

* * *

Hermione didn't know which day it was or what time it was. All she knew was that she was very, very angry- at herself, at Hugo, at- at everyone. There was a near constant cracking of thunder in her cell ever since she had that blasted session with that bloody doctor and that vile, _knee weakening,_ stupid kiss from Crane. To make the matters worse that bald pig kept sending her criminal records of the inmates she had met or seen in the cafeteria. She couldn't accept the fact the corridors were housing rapists, molesters, cold blooded murderers and-and such filths were living in the same place as she was! This could not be. She wouldn't let it be. It was like Wizarding Britain all over again. The Death Eaters walking free because they had money, plotting murders of children because they had the 'wrong' blood, hunting three teen all over Britain because a megalomaniac wished it. She would not let this happen. Not again.

Hermione's cell rumbled again; her righteous anger manifesting as a thunderstorm. Hermione's surveillance glass had gone dark not allowing anyone to see inside her cell. Fearing the worse, a couple of guards had gone inside the cell to check up on her but they didn't get out of the cell. Instead, a few hours later the cell opened from the inside and two human-sized charcoals came out floating. Her 'friends' were shocked, to say the least. Even Harley didn't comment on them. Actually...she did. She tutted softly. Not over the bodies. Over Hermione's bad mood. "Poor girl must be having a helluva monthly. Poor, poooooor girl," was what she said. Selina didn't leave the chance to say that she had told them so. Pamela felt a little bad for the girl who was the most caring of them all. She sent her a flower or two whenever she could. Anyone who appreciated plant life was a person worth getting a flower from the Poison Ivy.

It was one helluva week.

* * *

Dr Hugo was in a pensive mood after that visit from the morgue where he was called to sign the forms- formalities for the patients who 'died' under the care of Arkham. His thoughts were interrupted by the knocking on his door.

"Come in." Hugo permitted the interloper to enter.

"Sorry to disturb you, Dr Hugo," Ethel Peabody, assistant to Chief of Psychiatry, Arkham, began by poking her head in through the slightly ajar door, "but I had to discuss a personal topic with you."

Hugo motioned her to take a seat. Once the door was tightly shut and the seat before Hugo was promptly occupied, Ethel started out excitedly.

"I got my hands on a confidential detail of patient 7842/B a.k.a Hermione Granger."

"And what does it say?" Hugo asked calmly his voice not betraying his curiosity.

"She is a born meta. Like Poison Ivy. But unlike her, patient 7842/B can control many things around her."

"Hmm. That's interesting. But I think this wasn't the entire reason for your abrupt intrusion."

"Sir, she killed two guards yesterday."

Hugo's slightly widened eyes were the only thing that indicated his peaked interest.

"That's fascinating. What brought about this…change?"

"They had intruded on her having an episode of insanity."

"She seemed to be the most normal of them all," Hugo commented as he tried to find the times she acted on her instinct.

"The exercise yard guards said that patient Jonathan Crane had kissed her a week before. From then on, she had slight episodes of talking to herself and some slight self-arguments too which she strongly believed were her dead friends talking to her. But in a couple of days, her condition worsened and she became a recluse- busy quarrelling with nobody. A day before the guards entered her cell, her cell mates said that she was having severe mood swings and finally when the guards entered the blacked out cell, only their charcoaled bodies came out. A correction- floated out and was dumped on the corridor floor." Ethel finished hurriedly.

"So a pyrokinetic?" Hugo guessed.

"No, she's more. She can manipulate matter too. Guards have often reported having seen her resting on luxurious sofas or king sized bed in a _six_ by _eight_ feet room."

"She's becoming more and more interesting as every day passes," Hugo commented softly.

"Sir, if I am not intruding—"

"Not at all."

"What are your plans for this patient?"

"An alternative vigilante."

"Batman's counterpart?"

"Something of that sort."

"Why her? What is special about her other than her _powers_?" Ethel asked unable to kerb her curiosity.

"You know how every mind is different from each other. They are fingerprints. Similar but never the same. It is a pleasure, an achievement to learn what makes them tick. Of all the cases I have seen here- they are all crazy because of themselves. Well, barring Harley."

"I didn't quite get you," Ethel asked confusedly.

"Every one of them was of sane minds. But there were reasons why they crossed the line. And all reasons were selfish. One wanted to be the biggest and the badest of them all, one gave up humanity for the sake of love, one forgot to be human to save his wife, one was scorned and looked down upon for the way he was born and one in the name of science." Hugo gave a short laugh and shook his head in dismay. "But this girl. She became crazy because of others. They made her crazy. Her fault was hanging on to her sanity."

On seeing Ethel's befuddled face, Hugo explained, "She was a liability for her people. It is easy to paint someone crazy and ship them to another continent. You are crazy, who would believe you?"

"Victim of a conspiracy."

"And a survivor. She's got a severe case of PTSD which makes her sensitive to certain words or actions. And she's got this rigid sense of right and wrong. I guess she was a whistle blower who got deported for exposing the truth about a powerful person or maybe the government itself. Her files are classified after all."

"A twisted righteous soul."

"Exactly, Ethel. Something that can challenge Batman in ways you can't even fathom. She can make him second guess his decisions. Because at the end of the day, Hermione is just a simple psychopath who hates the offenders. You can say, a killer of the killers."

"Which sounds just like Batman's job description. Without the killing part."

Hugo only nodded his head.

"Now that Crane has gotten her so agitated, should we do something?"

"No. He's doing something that I had hoped to do. Hermione is limiting herself. Her own sense of good and bad is hindering her on acting upon her whims. Once she's free of those chains…there's no stopping her."

"So, more sessions?"  
"More sessions."

* * *

The sessions were a pain in the arse. Last week was the most taxing. She might have killed someone too. But that detail is blurry to her. Crane's hallucinogen had died down and she was feeling much better now. She didn't have any more episodes like that but she didn't feel the same as she was when she first entered this place. Something broke inside her and she doesn't know what. Her friends were patient enough to bear with her. They were the most considerate, unlike a certain bald rat. Repeatedly, that despicable doctor kept whispering temptations to her and she did her level best to ignore him. Enough to say, she felt for Eve who fell in the temptations of the snake's promises. Poor girl had a snowball's chance in hell against it.

And here she was fighting against her own snake. It was becoming exceedingly difficult as each session went. Her fingers often twitched to read the files that sat innocently before her in her cell but she bit the inside of her cheek until it bled, using pain to distract herself. It wasn't working now. She had already read what was in the file and now her fingers twitched to snap the neck of the man who thought it would be funny to make wax models of children who were still alive- patient 3569/D. She took deep breaths but her anger was climbing exponentially.

Resist, _resist_ , **RESIST**!

She couldn't anymore. She started rocked back and forth in her mattress on the floor chanting 'resist' like a mantra when a loud bang broke her attention.

"You okay?" the guard shouted.

"I am now," Hermione answered as she looked at the guard who was standing there.

"You have a visitor," the guard said as he opened her cell.

Hermione looked at him inquisitively. "I don't want to see the said visitor."

"Can't do otherwise, miss. Orders from higher ups," the guard replied firmly but politely. Perhaps, he has been told not to treat her like other occupants of this place. That she still was functioning properly. That she hasn't gone fully feral yet.

Hermione complied with what he said and didn't put up a fuss. Maybe, fresh air could do her some good.

She walked past all the closed doors with just a box like window in them and glass walls as well. She paid them no heed. She wanted to know who had the guts to visit her here in the States. She was patted down and some singular handcuffs placed on her wrists like two twin bracelets. Tasering bracelets most probably. She was escorted to a tiny room with a chair in front of a thin desk that was joined to the glass wall. There was a phone on that desk. On the other side of the glass walls sat a smirking platinum blonde.

Hermione cocked her head and stared at him, not ready to believe the identity of her visitor. As if on autopilot, she approached the chair and sat down then placed her hand on the glass, her fingers flayed. Draco responded by placing his hands in line with her, his longer fingers dwarfing hers. He picked up the receiver and jerked his chin at her prompting her to do the same. She numbly picked up the receiver on her side and said nothing.

"What? No hello or hi? Forgot us already?"

"How many days has it been?" Hermione questioned ignoring his question.

"Three months," Draco answered his tone dropped an octave. "And my wife missed you more than anything in this world. She laments that she's unable to make you feel the baby's bump or the whole new experience of back pains and swelling ankles. She says she's lost her listening ear and that I am no good. She wants you back."

"I told you not to come here. Ever," Hermione said, again apparently, ignoring everything Draco said.

"Never deny the wants of a seven months pregnant witch. It is a lesson learnt the hard way. I limped for three days before her stinging hex's effects faded."

Hermione bit her lips, her mind miles away from there.

"I miss her," she stated.

"We miss you too. She sent me because this interaction is going to be viewed in a pensive as soon as I go back." Draco smiled.

"Pre-fatherhood suits you." Hermione smiled fondly at Draco. "How is the mother to be?"

"Healthy but not so happy these days. She wants to complain her pains to you but you are missing. She says something like missing to avoid responsibilities."

Hermione laughed but there was sadness lurking behind her eyes.

"I don't understand. Why do this when you could have easily escaped this?"

Hermione's eyes lost focus and she looked down deeply contemplating something.

"I forgot why I came here," she replied softly.

"I can't believe this. Forgot? How does someone forget one is in a prison? A prison for crazies no less."

"When someone has sleepovers every other day, one does forget."

"Take back your words. I will Obliviate this piece out of the memory. Or else Astoria will kill me. And then kill you. You made friends here!" Draco accused her.

"They are fun," Hermione replied.

"You are dead, you know that? Astoria would feel so bad about this," Draco said as he placed his free hand on his heart and faked a sob.

"Stop it, you drama queen."

Draco laughed and then got a bit serious, "So when are you coming home?"

"When's the baby due?"

"Three more months then a date will be assumed."

"The time flew by."

"It did."

"And didn't even realise how long I resisted his manipulations. I didn't break even now." Hermione gave a small laugh.

"Who's trying to manipulate you?"

"You know this asylum?" Hermione began yet again ignoring his questions. It was a common thing for Draco so didn't complain nor he pushed her. He knew she answered when she wanted in her own sweet time. Hermione leant forward towards the glass and Draco mirrored her. Hermione whispered into the mouthpiece as if spilling the darkest secret of Arkham, "This place is run by crazies. This is a place for crazies, run by crazies so that the fittest crazy graces the streets of Gotham. And the chief psychiatrist thinks me to be his finest as of yet. He's trying to coheres me to do his unspoken bidding."

"And what are you doing?"

"Resisting."

"Why? You wanted to get rid of that chain of righteousness, didn't you?" Draco asked.

"I did. But why change at the whims of another. This is my life, my choice. I didn't break under Bellatrix. I wouldn't break under him."

"That's the Hermione I know and love," Draco said fondly.

"I love you too, honey," Hermione replied.

"Time's up!" the supervisory guard shouted.

"And don't forget this was your idea of a vacation," Draco reminded.

"Now I won't. Give my love to Tory. Women love extra loving I'll let you know," Hermione said and put her receiver down as did Draco.

The guard approached her and Draco gave her a flying kiss and walked out of the room escorted by the guard on his side. The guard removed her tasering cuffs and walked her to her cel- room.

Hermione was in a good mood. She couldn't let the situation influence her now, can she?

* * *

Hermione's latest session was three days ago and even now it seems her righteous shell hasn't cracked a bit. He had spotted the cracks himself- the guards had recorded her little episode of loss of self-control and now that girl had again bounced back into her same old infuriating righteous self. Hugo was getting irritated now. It was fun to have a challenge but this was going a bit too far. He couldn't afford to devote all his time on this. But then again, masterpieces took more time and effort. That is why they are called master piece. He took out Hermione's file and read was reading through the notes and reports when there was a knocking on the door.

"Come in," he replied.

Ethel poked her head in, "Sir, you better come and see this."

Hugo walked to the morgue and found there was a slight crowd of the regular coroners around a table. As he entered, the crowd of five parted him to allow him in. there he saw an ordinary body lying his body covered by a white sheet up to his waist. What were out of the ordinary were the distinct brownish green veins in places where veins are as if someone coloured each and every vein of his. And then there was that pristine lotus blooming out of his parted mouth.

"Poison Ivy," Ethel said confidently.

"We checked the CCTV recordings; she has been in her cell not moving from her place for the past three days. She's again in her catatonic, meditative state." An orderly replied.

"And we checked her cell too. She is not faking it. She's in her meditative state," Poison Ivy's regular physician replied.

"Odd," was the only word Hugo deemed appropriate for this incident.

That wasn't the last of it. Another body turned up beaten to death, his body turned into mush. Only the roll call revealed his identity. It seemed he was offed by being repeatedly pulverised by a human-sized mallet. The other was found tied up in razor sharp woollen yarns. That man had bled to death as every struggle against the yarns resulted in deeper cuts. What was common in all the deaths was that their profile files were given to patient 7842/B- Hermione Granger. But all these murders were done by her cellmates. But surprising at the time of the deaths the suspects were in their cells. This confirmed by the guards present near the cells themselves. Was Granger a mind controlling meta human? If yes, then when did she do this? Her cellmates never left their cells. This girl was getting out of control. She was becoming a headache for him. If the coming days yield no result, he's going to terminate her stay at Arkham. Pests need to be removed when they no longer live and let live.

* * *

"That was so fun!" Harley squealed as she swung in her now improved swing, thanks to Hermione.

"I am glad I got rid of that filth generator," Pamela added.

"And I am glad I got my revenge. That creep had tried to maul me when I got stuck in a particularly tight spot," Selina quipped.

"I am glad you guys had fun," Hermione said as she lounged in her settee.

"So when are you having your fun?" Harley asked. "It is only fair!"

"Soon, love. Soon." Hermione replied cryptically.

The next few days were monotonous and terse. Every inmate present was throwing back their minds to recall if they had any riff raff with any of the funky girls' squad. They might have forgotten why the girls were put under level red security but these recent incidents had jostled up their fear and respect for them. Hugo was at his wit's end. It seemed that sly minx had turned the table around. She was the puppeteer of her cellmates but she was yet to show her ace. Hugo always doubted if she was a victim of a conspiracy since he has never seen her in action nor could he instigate her into doing something. This thought had crossed his mind but Hugo didn't pay it much heed. But now he knew she wasn't a victim. She was a psychopath who had a moral code. She functioned when she thought there was a wrong doer roaming the streets free. He would have to hone her skill in this regard. People like this have a bad tendency of turning against their master. He couldn't stop that trickle of fear to run down his spine every time there was an unnatural death in the asylum. Did he break her here? Has he her maker? Or was she just a patient snake waiting for the right time to strike? He vowed to be careful from now on.

But it seemed she had struck first. He once again found himself accompanying Ethel to the morgue. This time the body that was lying on the examination table could be mistaken for a wax model only if the face didn't glaringly scream out to be one belonging to patient 3569/D. the one who's profile file Hugo had given to Hermione to instigate her. It seemed she was instigated enough.

So, all it took to get her into action were the offences of the wrong doer. He was right! She is a killer who kills other killers. He smiled a self-satisfied smile. It did unnerve Ethel but he really didn't care at this point. He had succeeded. But some glinting lines on the 'wax-ified' body caught his attention. He peered down and read-

 _Well Done!_

 _Though, it was a weird move._

 _Now,_

 _It's My Turn._

* * *

"And the guards?" Crane asked the orderly that delivered him news of Arkham. It didn't hurt to have minions of every type as long as they feared him.

"Dead. Brunt crisp. CCTV footage was the only thing that confirmed it was Jones and Matt."

Jonathan merely hummed in reply. The orderly then went away from there.

That woman had intrigued him since the first time he had seen her during the riot. It was a blatant fact that she didn't belong here. She was way too classy for that. But at the same time, she fit in right here. That Bat wouldn't know what hit him when he will come across this woman. Crane smirked. He took pleasure from the fact that he was the one who got under her skin and brought forth her beast. Not to mention, she was a good kisser too. Maybe after they both got out of here, they could collaborate? Who knows what the future stores for them? His mood was way to jolly to be darkened by the everyday jeers and leers from the petty ones here. She would be his finest to date. The finest. The one who conquered her fear. He was impressed. He smirked at the whole time as he took his breakfast. It unnerved many but then again when didn't he unnerve people? That petite thing didn't get scared. She accepted the fear, accepted her hallucinations and reasoned with them. She reasoned with her fear. And when that private time was violated by those dim witted guards, she was nemesis herself.

Of course, she had a problem dealing it with it at first. But her comeback was admirable. She didn't act upon her basic instinct- she didn't give up nor did she hide from it. She chose to rise above it. She confronted it and made peace with it. She accepted it. Like he did. She was one fine diamond in this rough. She has just begun shining. He wanted her beside him.

"—and there was a visitor for her." That was the only part Crane heard when he came out of his revere.

"Who?"

"By the looks of it? A lover."

"What?"

"She seemed very happy to see him. 'Her face lit up when she saw him' happy."

Crane nodded and moved away from his window in the door.

He couldn't let anyone else lay a claim on her. She was his. He woke her up. He was her awakening and he would be her rise. If need be, he'll scare away the competitor. He was good at that. He wouldn't let this bird fly away. This one was his for taking.

 _His_ Hermione.

* * *

 **T.B.C...**


	7. Chapter 6

**I am nothing but sorry for not updating this story sooner. I had lost my motivation for this story. But a kind review and a couple favourites got me going and I slugged and slugged and finally finished this chapter. It is a little shorter than I wanted but I really couldn't help it.**

 **Thank you for your support. My hearties love to Puja and WinchesterGranger without whom this chapter really wouldn't have been finished.  
**

 **Also, this isn't beta-ed so any mistake you find is mine.**

* * *

 _All my friends are heathens, take it slow_  
 _Wait for them to ask you who you know_  
 _Please don't make any sudden moves_  
 _You don't know the half of the abuse_

 _-Heathens (Twenty One Pilots)_

* * *

Commissioner Gordon was sitting in the café sipping a decaf coffee reading a report on the deaths that have recently happened in Arkham. It was well past midnight when a rustle of fabric caught his attention. Batman was sitting opposite to him now.

"Arkham was on yellow alert on Thursday and the last time checked the status changed rather abruptly," Batman simply stated.

"Why, hello to you too. Me? I'm fine. Spending my time working," Gordon said sarcastically.

Batman gave a wry smile at that. "And I do know you caught this petty thief who was robbing this very café by splashing your extra hot coffee on him last Friday."

"Keeping tabs on me, are you?"

"I keep tabs on everybody. And everything."

"Then the odd deaths in Arkham must have come to your notice too?"

"They did. Which is why I am here."

"I don't have much intel one it. Except the fact that Dr Hugo Strange is behind this all," Gordon said looking down on his coffee and stirring it with his spoon. "This smells distinctly of him. I suggest you rather look this up right at the source at Arkham. I am sure they would provide you with the information re—" Gordon looked up only to find the seat before empty.

"And I'm talking to myself. Again."

The Batmobile raced down the street tearing through the night. The visor of the mobile was showing the various footages from the CCTV cameras of Arkham. But it wasn't too accurate. It seemed that after the riot that happened three months back, somebody had tampered with the cameras in the women's wing. Every time something odd was recorded, the camera flickered and the footage got blurry. The staffs, these days, are so lax about the security.

It looked like he would have to take a personal interest into this. But that'll be tomorrow. He had other things to look into tonight.

* * *

"Is that another letter?" Harley asked when an owl came to Hermione that day.

"Yes, it is. In fact, it is an invitation to Astoria's baby shower," Hermione replied passing the invite around for all the girls to read.

"Looks like a private party," Selina commented.

"And I hope you won't steal anything from the manor. There are many hexes and curses around any pretty babble you might find there. They could kill you by shrivelling your inside or the famous Black blood boiling curse," Hermione said offhandedly.

"Oooh! Blood boiling curse sounds interesting!" Harley replied clapping her hands.

"It does what it says?" Pamela asked.

"Absolutely! Or else, it wouldn't be called a blood boiling curse now, would it?" Hermione replied and walked to her side of the room. Their cells were fused together and now it always was a luxurious suite that housed the four of them. They got along like houses on fire. With a dash of crazy. They were more friends to her than Lavender, Parvati, Ginny, Harry, Ron ever were.

"So you'll go to the baby shower?" Selina asked.

"Yes?" Hermione replied questioningly.

"So when are you breaking out of Arkham?" Harley asked rocking back and forth in her place.

"As soon as I kill that doctor. He is not good for this place. He has insidious motives," Hermione replied bringing the basket of muffins that had come along with the owl.

"So, soon?" Pamela asked.

"Soon."

* * *

Hugo was at his wit's end. Hermione Granger was unlike any patients he had ever encountered. She was medically sane but there was a side of her that was uncontrolled, that motivated her to kill people. But somehow, he just couldn't tap into that part of her. It was way too closely guarded. She almost lost control- given the recent killings she had done. They were accidental, but it's killing all the same.

There was a part of her psyche that followed her morals. Hugo twisted his wrist to check the time. It was well past midnight. He wouldn't be able to give his specialized treatment on Granger without the help of the orderlies. This would be the only chance Granger shall get. If she responds positively to it, well and good. Otherwise, he'll wash his hands off this case. With that thought, Hugo got out of his office to rest for the big day coming up ahead.

* * *

The days were blending in for Hermione. The same old, same old. Wake, eat, talk with her new friends, amuse one's self, eat, read books, mandatory counselling sessions by Dr Hugo personally, come back, eat, talk, sleep.

So, so, so boring!

Hermione looked down at her hands- they were quivering. Random sparks shot out of the tips of her fingers. Her body temperature was getting higher. She felt feverish without being weak. She felt like she could take on the world and come out unscathed. She hadn't used her magic for anything major recently and now she was restless. She was full of unspent energy and magic without any release in sight. If she remained as it is, she'll explode. Literally.

"Are you okay, girl?" Selina asked concerned about the way how Hermione sat quietly in her favourite seat.

"I…I don't think so," Hermione answered dreamily. Oh, Merlin. She was slipping into fever-induced delirium. But how? Fever didn't rise this fast.

"Mio, you are—" Harley approached Hermione and placed her hand on her arm when she hissed and flexed her hand back.

"What's wrong?" Ivy asked worried about Hermione.

"She's burning up. Like, burning from the inside. Slow roast burning," Harley provided the descriptions.

"We need to call an orderly. Now!" Ivy ordered. Harley went near the bars of their modified cells and shouted for an orderly.

"Here," Selina handed Harley a baton. "Bang this and get an orderly here."

Harley nodded and started banging the bars of the cell all the while shouting out, "Hey, orderly, orderly, orderly! Come here, orderly, orderly, orderly!" Then she added in a normal voice, "My friend is burning up here! I'm pretty sure she'll blow up these cells. I can't wait for it. Ever since she's been _admitted_ life has certainly gotten exciting. Otherwise, it was so bORing. Hey, orderly, orderly, orderly!"

Selina poured a jug of chilled water over Hermione's head. But it promptly evaporated away. No one dared to touch her. They were crazy not brain dead.

Hermione had clenched her fingers into a fist and was trying her best to control her inflated core. She should have been exercising her powers more. But didn't she do her usual exercises of complex transfigurations? And Animagus meditations? She did all that and more. Every night she was exhausted to the bones. Because that was the only way she could go to sleep. But how did this come to be? She would have noticed the signs of her core's sudden growth. She would. Gods, she was feeling so hot.

Hermione was panting and by now her body temperature had started to char the fabric of her seat slightly. Selina and Pamela shared a panicked look. This was not good. The matter was already out of their hands. Hermione's present temperature could not be bored by any normal person. But then again she wasn't a normal person, was she?

Hermione was yet to show any movement other than the irregular pants she let out. Her body was wound up and tight with a pulled back bow. The arrow was all that was remaining to be released. Given the powers Hermione exhibited on a regular basis, it was a good guess that she could kill them all, Selina guessed. Maybe Pamela could survive but plants die after being burned away. It had come down to fight or flight now. Selina knew which one she would choose.

Pamela knew what was going to happen. If it didn't pose her a threat then Pamela would have waxed poetically about it. From the symptoms Hermione was showing, it seemed as if she was going into her chrysalis stage. She was preparing to become _more_. Pamela just hoped she survived the process. It was lovely to have a good friend.

"Nope, I bang and wailed and shouted and screamed and cried and banged some more. Though not the thing that I wanted to bang but bang I did. To no avails, I am afraid," Harley replied after her enthusiastic efforts for straight fifteen minutes. She turned to look at Hermione, who was sitting in her now charred seat, her muscles clenched to their limits riding something out that they couldn't guess. "Looks like we need to activate our protection shells."

"Protection shells?" Selina questioned from the farthest corner of the room.

"Mio and I had a chat some days ago. She said when she would break us out of here, the baddies could use tasers on us or the tranqs. Damn, she hates tranqs. So she created these," Harley went over to the chest of drawers and pulled out a pouch from there. Then she pulled out a couple of transparent balls filled with aquamarine blue colour liquid with magenta patterns swirling in it.

"What are these?" Selina asked suspiciously.

Suddenly, their ears popped as if there was a pressure fall. As if synchronised, they turned their heads to face Hermione who had now straightened up and sitting calmly in her chair. Hermione looked at them with a maniacal look in her eyes.

"This place is about to blow," Hermione crackled.

Harley promptly popped a ball in her mouth and chewed on it. As it burst, she quickly swallowed it. Her face twisted in a grimace. "It could do with a better flavour. Can't say I like the bitter orange flavour," Harley shuddered as she said that.

Selina and Pamela stared at her for a moment when they started feeling a faint vibration in the air around them. It felt as if the very air around them was trying to compress them. Pamela didn't second guess and ate the offered ball. She too shuddered and made a face.

"Yeah. Not exactly a likeable flavour," Pamela commented.

Selina didn't want to take this risk. Pamela was impervious to poisons and Harley was insane. But she couldn't deny that the temperature of the room was reaching an intolerable range now and Harley hadn't dropped down dead yet. She shrugged and popped in the ball and gave a bite. The shell burst and her mouth was filled with a sweetish yet bitter…oh! very bitter flavoured liquid. Selina quickly gulped it to free her mouth so that she could wipe it clean when the shell dissolved in her mouth and left a sweet orange taste. But the bitterness didn't go away entirely.

Selina took empty gulps to ease the annoying taste that lingered on her tongue when she felt slight tingles spreading all over her body. She looked down at her hands and saw nothing new…except the minor glint on her skin. Hold on! Why was her skin glinting in the light?

"See? It feels like you are wearing a skin fit raincoat," Harley giggled as she poked Pamela.

"Yes, witch indeed. Crazy but witchy," Pamela added with a small smile.

A loud siren sounded as the alarm started ringing.

Harley looked at Selina and lamented, "Maybe, we should have burnt something. That would have brought the guards earlier."

Pamela placed her hand on Harley's shoulders and flicked her head towards a corner. The walls of their 'suite' were flickering. It seemed that Hermione's magic had finally gone insane too.

"We need to stay away from Hermione. Who knows how the magic will affect us once it explodes," Pamela explained.

The other two nodded in consent and went up to stand in the farthest corner of the room.

"Poor Mio. She must be in pain. But no pains, no gains," Harley consoled herself.

It wasn't too long before the charmed objects in their 'suite' started returning to their original form.

"Hey, I liked that chaise!" Harley whined when her 'chaise' turned into a regular mattress.

"When Hermione's fine again, she'll make you another," Pamela consoled her.

"You think so?" Harley asked.

"I know so," Pamela assured.

The three of them watched as their slice of luxury turned into tattered bed sheets, stained walls and lumpy mattresses. This reverting back happened before the orderlies came barging in. Then…it was a pin drop silence. The three women shared an uneasy look- Hermione was sitting like a statue in her seat unseeing and unresponsive. They then noticed the five people who had barged in weren't orderlies but the security. The nurse was standing behind them with an injection in hand ready to be used as well accompanied by… was that Dr Hugo Strange himself? In flesh?

 _'_ _He hadn't bothered himself with them before,'_ was a thought that ran through the three prisoners mind.

Hermione sat up straighter and they felt the pressure in the room rise. They turned to look at Hermione who mouthed, "duck" at them. Selina, being the jumpiest one, grabbed the hands of Pamela and Harley and jumped to the floor. What followed that was a series of sonic explosions and the crash and bang of the things and people hitting the wall. The three of them kept crouching on the floor as the bits and pieces of the plaster and an odd metal kept hitting them. Pamela once cried out in surprise when a shrapnel hit directly on her face but didn't injure her. She ran her fingers over her face to check and saw it was unhurt.

"Oh, so that's what it does. Like a very nice raincoat," Harley commented but no one heard that.

Selina and Pamela were, instead, looking at Hermione who had now collapsed on the ground, unconscious. The orderlies who were out of the range of the explosion filled in and the nurse who apparently was unscathed injected something into Hermione. The doctor then barked some orders and Hermione was carried away from the cell.

"Where do you think they are taking her?" Selina asked as she took in their cell which was blasted apart. The walls facing the outside were blown away; the section where Hermione was sitting had caved in. The guards and the nurses who had been unfortunate enough to come into the explosion region were lying crumpled on the ground.

"She did some good amount of damage," Pamela commented, lightly nudging the fallen people.

"Magic sounds a very frisky thing," Harley added, to which Selina nodded in affirmative.

The doctor suddenly came back in and looked at the three of them and nodded to himself. "You all are unharmed?" he asked.

The three of them just nodded in response.

"Good," Hugo said and snapped his finger. Soon, five more people came in and point black shot, Harley and Pamela.

"What the hell! What the fucking hell?!" Selina shouted as she scrambled to run the other way. She didn't see a tranq hitting her back and promptly fell down as the tranquillizer shot started working immediately thus making her feet go numb first.

Selina was picked up in a fireman's haul and was hanging off the shoulder of a guard. She knew her friends were getting transported in the same way.

"You four have tested my patience for so long," Hugo commented as he talked to Selina. "I tried to give Hermione Granger to submit right away. But oh no, you've tested my patience. You have proved the world that you all are so expendable. But to me, you are inDISpensaBLE."

That was the last thing Selina heard before darkness claimed her.

* * *

The first thing she heard some was the whirring of the machines, a constant beeping and the undeterminable buzzing. Hermione tried to blink the drowsiness away but her head lolled to her right. Maybe a quick nap would be good. She was about to fall asleep when a sound near her made Hermione look up.

Pamela, who was tied to the stirrup table, was struggling against her—whatever those were—rather violently. Come to think of it, Hermione's arms and legs were tied to the table too. Oh, wonders of wonder, she was tied to a vertical table. And cushiony too. So not a table. Then is it a chair- like the ones her parents had in their dental clinic or those creepy chairs like in a gyno's clinic?

Hermione shook her head as if that would dispel her weird train of thoughts. She looked around and took it the activities happening- Pamela struggling, Harley giggling, her beau grinning, Selina scowling, that handsome Scarecrow frowning—Hold that thought. What's the Scarecrow doing here? And Harley's beau?

"Good to find you awake, Ms Granger," Hermione's counselling doctor said cheerfully.

"What's up, Doc?" Hermione sassed and smiled like Bugs Bunny did- all teeth and mischief.

"You had an episode a couple hours ago. Do you remember that?" Hugo asked, ignoring Hermione's enquiry.

"Wasn't an episode. More like an allergic reaction," Hermione answered curtly.

"Reaction to?" Hugo asked, looking interested.

Hermione leant forward, as much as her restrictions allowed and smirked, "Wouldn't you want to know, darlin'?"

From across her, Hermione heard a dark chuckle that pleased her to no ends.

"I'm sure the electric shock would suffice enough to loosen your tongue," Hugo snarled.

"Take your time, Doc. I ain't going anywhere," Hermione replied cockily.

"Don't worry, Mio," Harley shouted, two 'chairs' away from her. "The electric shocks feel like a tickle in the brain. I love it. It makes me laugh so much!"

"Sugar, you are making me nostalgic of all the times we played," the green hair guy said.

 _'What was his name again?'_ Hermione thought, trying to recall, _'Something to do with a joke or a clown.'_

Hermione didn't get to ponder more as the nurses there attached all sorts of wires and small sticky things and the main headdress for a head reboot. Hermione didn't protest. After the sudden core expansion due to the infusion of the wand core in her arm in the afternoon, Hermione knew she could handle a pesky machine trying to electrocute her. She was confident that a simple Lumos would be able to burn every machine in the room to a crisp.

Suddenly, Hermione felt as if someone was watching her. She looked up and saw Jonathan 'Scarecrow' Crane looking at her intently. The nurse came between them to put four more restraints around her. When Hermione hissed at the tightness of the restraints around her calf, she chanced a look at Jonathan's eyes and saw his pupils were blown wide. Somebody was getting turned on by seeing her get tied up.

Hermione didn't move her eyes away from Jonathan as her mouth was gagged in case she bit her tongue during their 'treatment'. Hermione smirked smugly as she saw him trying to keep down the groan. He licked his lips and kept staring at her. He took her-inch by inch- from her head to the toes and then from her toes to her head and repeated it again. Hermione could help but feel empowered from being able to get such a primal reaction from a man.

It's so good to be bad.

"The machine is ready, Doctor," a random nurse prepping the machine announced.

Hugo smiled sinisterly at Hermione and nodded his head. A nurse rubbed alcohol on Hermione's arms and injected something in her veins, then stepped back and nodded.

"Initialising the treatment. Patient 7842/B under electro treatment. Charging up. And…start," the nurse shouted.

"MMMMFFFFFFTTTTTT!" Hermione shouted from behind her gag.

The nurse immediately switched off the machine in panic; the patient wasn't supposed to react before five minutes into the treatment. Hugo let out an exasperated sigh and waved his hand to let the nurse know that the gag needs to be removed.

Hermione immediately started coughing and spat out, "Uurgh… horrible taste. Pffffttttt." She blew raspberries to get rid of the foul flavoured saliva in her mouth.

"I believe you wanted to say something," Hugo seethed. Even he didn't know why he was entertaining her insane request. Maybe it was the fact that Hermione and he both knew that she wasn't insane enough to be sent to an asylum. Or maybe the fact that Hugo wanted to know how she managed to not go insane despite his well thought out treatments.

"I get why us four girls are here. But why these two?" Hermione jerked her head at Joker and Jonathan.

Hugo sighed and removed his spectacles. Tapping the temple tips of the specs, he replied, "They are disposable samples. They are a menace to the security of this place anyways. Commence the treatment now," he said with finality.

With the gag in place, Hermione concentrated on transfiguring it into something tasteless not caring that the electro treatment had begun. Five minutes, ten minutes- no effect. Everyone stared at Hermione in surprise.

Only Harley whined. "I wanted to go first." She pouted. Hermione smiled apologetically.

"Your turn will soon come. Maybe like old times, I'll be the one to shock you," Joker leered.

Harley gave a giggle of pleasure.

Hermione seemed to be locked in a stare-off with Jonathan while the nurse cranked the volts up.

Nothing happened.

"How is this possible?" Hugo raged, coming in front of Hermione to shout in her face. He pulled off the gag rather harshly off her.

"If I tell you, I would have to kill you. Or worse, marry you," Hermione replied nonchalantly, though her eyes held the promise of retribution for his slight on her person.

Hugo merely looked at her, puzzled. There seem to be more secrets to uncover about this woman. She didn't turn up in the database, her life was confidential- they needed the permission of the Head of the Police Department every time they tried to check; her secrets had secrets.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "You know what? I'm tired being tied up. Instead of being treated for an _episode_ , as you quoted, I am tied up and being electrocuted. What the fuck do you think you are doing?"

"It's my own type of treatment. It will enhance the _innate_ skills in you. Now that I think of it…" Hugo trailed off and made his way towards the machine controlling her electroshocks. He fiddled with it-while Hermione saw from the corner of her eyes, the nurse shaking his head in negation to whatever Hugo was saying. Hugo pushed the nurse out of the way and cranked the machine on high. Hermione deduced it was the highest setting possible because that was the only time she felt a slight tingle against her skin where the sticky sticker things were attached.

Following the first tingle, it felt a static spread throughout her body- the prickling and tingling sensation overwhelming her. She felt her magical core strum inside her, rejuvenating her and filling her with more power than she had ever felt. She could feel the radio waves around her, the steady thrum of the electricity running through the wires, the subtle nude of Pamela's plant power against her and even Harley and Selina's normal energy core. She could discern the energy around her. Even the light energy!

Hermione was busy staring at the harsh light of the fluorescent tubes. Satisfied that something was happening to Hermione now, Hugo moved on to her 'friends' and was busy pricking them with needles and putting the sticky stickers on them to electrocute them.

"Would you put on high too, Doctor? I want what you gave to Mio," Harley requested in a baby voice

"Yes, yes," Hugo answered absently and moved on the other patients.

"Yaaay! Puddin'! It's my turn now," Harley squealed merrily.

"You better now put those on me, Doctor. I'm not one of your experiments," Joker snarled at Hugo, not paying attention to Harley's exclamation.

Hugo looked up from the chart he was perusing, he smiled an all teeth smile and replied, "My hospital, my patients, my rules."

Hugo went to the table and pulled out an injection filled to the brim with a red liquid.  
"You wouldn't dare!" Jonathan shouted, "Not here in such a confined space!"

"You don't worry about that, Mr Crane. I have all under control," Hugo replied, false sweetness dripping off his voice.

"That's Doctor Crane for you," Jonathan seethed.

Hugo merely gave a snort and pushed the needle into Jonathan's veins a little no hard for comfort. Jonathan just hissed in discomfort. He chanced a look at Hermione who still had a dazed look on her face. Who knows what stuff must have been injected into her?

Jonathan felt the ripping of his muscles and heard the tearing of his clothes. The concern for his clothes was his last conscious thought.

The nurses pressed some buttons and some restraints attached themselves around now rabid Jonathan who had turned into something that was best described as a humanoid scarecrow.

"Holy Merlin on a pogo stick! What has he turned into?" Hermione gasped in shock as her eyes fell on the Scarebeast the first thing after she woke up from the magic high.

A skeletal figure with muscles hanging off it and feet that looked like the uprooted tree roots. It had no distinct face- just a set of jaw full of jagged teeth and a pair of glowing red eyes.

"I've heard this avatar is called Scarebeast," Selina answered who was wriggling in her bindings trying to get as far as possible away from the threat.

Hermione let out a frustrated sigh. "Okay, water is overhead now."

"On the contrary. It's perfectly under control," Hugo replied in admiration, "My personal monsters ready to devastate the world."

"Beg to differ," Hermione muttered.

"How is it that you can talk even now? Your brain should have been fried by now." Hermione saw Hugo's assistant comment, from somewhere far down the room, in an awed tone.

"Sorry to disappoint. Tough nut and all that rot," Hermione replied snappishly.

Hugo motioned the nurse to drug her again when the injection flew out of the nurse's hand and pierced the needle in the nurse's neck. The nurse promptly fell in an unconscious slump.

"I did love to play but I'm on time constraint. I expected the episode to happen later nevertheless…" Hermione trailed off as she jumped off the chair to which she was shackled to.

"How?" Hugo asked in wonder stopping a moment to see the impossible happen before his eyes.

"Doctor, witches have magical powers." Hermione winked. "And now that I've told you, I'll have to kill you. Our laws, you see."

"Witches? Are they enhanced humans? Like Pamela here?" Hugo asked, his curiosity taking the best of him.

"You talk too much," Hermione snarled and leapt towards Hugo.

Hugo found himself rooted to the spot while Hermione sauntered towards him like a panther moving in on its prey.

"I've seen how you _charm_ people away with your words. You think you know how to find person's raw nerve, don't you?" Hermione asked him as she circled him. "If you hadn't tried to use your tricks on me, I would have let you live. But…"

Hermione waved her hand at him and whispered, "Imperio."

Hugo felt his mind go slack and there was a voice inside telling him to claw his own throat out. He shook his head as if to dislodge the thought but the voice kept on telling the command persistently.

 _'_ _Come on. You know you can claw it out. It'll be good. As soon as you do it, your mind will stop hurting.'_

 _'_ _No! How can I hurt myself?!'_

He tried to fight it off. He was the master of his own body. His mind was the greatest weapon he had. His most prized possession. He was not going to let it be controlled by anyone- enhanced human or not. He started fighting against the command. His arms were already loosely wrapped around his throat. He could feel sweats dripping off his temples as he tried to gain control over himself again. God, he was starting to develop a ferocious headache.

Meanwhile, with another wave of her hand, Hermione immobilised every attendant present there. Seeing her friends frozen like statues, Hermione chuckled and gave another wave freeing them of all their restraints- magical and otherwise.

Hermione had to work a little more on Scarebeast but the normal dragon stunning spell worked well on him. Scarebeast stumped in his place, stunned for the time being.

Harley squealed in joy and jumped towards Hermione to give her a bear hug. She didn't stop there- peppering Hermione's face with kisses.

"You are the bestest, bestest, bestest person ever!" Harley proclaimed loudly and she remained clung to her like a barnacle on a ship.

"And what are we? Chopped beans?" Pamela muttered, though there was a wide smile on her face.

Harley grabbed Pamela and initiated a group hug. Somehow, she snagged Selina into the group too. Never had Hermione felt so included. It really didn't matter that these people were stably functional only on their best days. Those days were rare and far in between.

Suddenly choking broke the lovely moment and Hermione turned to face a now blue faced Hugo.

"Oh gods," Hermione grumbled and waved her hand at him. The effect was immediate- Hugo started pulling at his thorax with all his strength. It was an extremely grotesque and fascinating to see at the same time. Hugo's blunt fingers tried to claw it out now.

"Doesn't feel right to be the one on the receiving end of manipulation, does it?" Hermione taunted him, still standing in the embrace of her friends.

"What is going to happen to him?" Selina asked, looking at the grotesque event unfold.

"He'll kill himself," Hermione replied apathetically, her eyes fixed on Hugo as if watching an experiment taking place. In some way, it was. She hadn't used Imperio on anybody ever.

Hermione looked at Hugo and willed him to try harder and harder and harder.

Hugo was screaming inside his mind. He couldn't make any sound except for some primal groans and muffled screams that managed to escape from his already damaged throat.

Hugo's thorax was completely in his finger's grasp and he had pulled it way beyond what should have been physically possible.

"Get on with it now, will you?" Hermione snarled.

Then with a mighty heave as if Hugo suddenly possessed super strength, Hugo pulled his thorax off his person.

The result was horrible. Blood splattered on everyone in the projectile area. Hugo stood there with his thorax in his hand, blood gushing out of his exposed throat. Some choked croaking later, he fell on the floor pooling the floor with his life force.

"This is an entertainment I'd steal to pay for," Joker crackled.

Hermione tsk-ed, "Such a waste of good blood." Not caring she was covered in blood, she dipped her fingers in the small puddle of blood and started drawing archaic symbols on the clean floor a little away.

"Now this is witchy," Pamela commented.

Harley was busy explaining Joker who and what Hermione was.

"What about these people?" Pamela pointed towards the statue like nurses and orderlies in the room.

"As soon as I am out of here, they can do whatever they feel like," Hermione replied, giving little hops to go over the symbols. "Oh, and mind the runes, please. I will not be held accountable if you ruin it."

"And your admirer?" Selina asked, looking at the unconscious Scarebeast.

"I'll drop him out of here. After that, I don't know. I'll go with the flow," Hermione answered.

"What's so special about them?" Joker asked looking at the symbols with morbid fascination.

"It's my offerings to Gaia. If all goes well, this place shall be taken over by Her at her own pace," Hermione explained.

Pamela smiled, pleased about the turn of events.

"So, what's next?" Harley asked.

"Let's blow this place away," Hermione replied with a smirk.

* * *

And the place had blown away. What Hermione hadn't expected that a part of the confinement cells to blow off allowing the other inmates to escape. Hermione was not happy about that. But Harley had promised her that they would take of it.

So, Hermione was, currently, sitting on the edge of the two-storeyed, an abandoned building near the border of Arkham watching the escapees wreak havoc on their fellow escapees. Pamela was in full-fledged Poison Ivy mode; her favourite orchid was blooming along the walls of the houses and the animated branches systematically wrapped the escapees and brought them near her to get them kissed. It was almost funny seeing them become 'zombie in love' from just a kiss. Silly them.

Harley had faithfully freed Joker and now they were in a jeep mowing down the people who were unfortunate enough to be in their way. Selina was off doing whatever Selina did. The Portkey on her made sure that she would be there by the time when they would need to leave.

Scarebeast was…scaring people. He had managed to get out of the restraints, out of the lab and into the foray of the battle. It was a sight worth seeing a proper monster in action.

Hermione swung her head, looking at the Tempus spell cast on her wrist. Portkey time was T-minus half an hour. A little more fun for her friends and then off to England. Harley and Joker had opted to stay here; Selina and Pamela wanted out…she just didn't know about Jonathan.

Hermione was busy wondering when she heard a slight thump behind her but she didn't bother to turn to acknowledge the interloper.

"It's not what you think, you know?" Hermione tried to explain.

"Then explain," a very gruff voice demanded. Hermione knew perfectly that no human voice could be like that. It was clearly manipulated by a device.

"Dr Hugo Strange wanted to turn us into his customised monsters. So, I got them out. I became friends with the girls here you see," Hermione was telling Batman as they both looked down at the carnage that was going on down below. "And I would think that you would prefer if the really terrible psychos were offed. That way the city becomes a little more secure."

"That's what jails are for."

"But I've read the reports about the frequency of breakouts at Arkham. The criminals spend more time outside of Arkham than inside. Take Jack for example. He's barely in the jails of highest security for more than six months."

At Batman's blank stare, Hermione let out a huff. "Of course you don't know his real name. Joker. Joker's real name is Jack. Don't worry. He didn't tell me that. I just found out. Besides, I would be crazy if I believed any word out of his mouth."

"You are not like the others."

"If you believe me, I was wrongly committed here. I just got a little too dangerous for people in power."

Batman didn't say anything more. He was chattier than he usually is with this strange woman who kept her eye on whatever was going on not letting things get out of hand. As far as he could make out, her allies were making sure that no other people made out of the boundaries of Arkham. Despite the good work those escapees were doing, he couldn't let them roam free in Gotham. He took a step to jump off the building to take control of the situation going down below when someone pulled him back his cape.

"Hey, what do you think you are doing?"

"They are criminals. They—"

"So are you. You go beyond the protocols of normal police jurisdictions. That makes you a criminal too. Just because you catch the bad guys it doesn't make you the good guys. Maybe to some, but you are a criminal in my eyes."

Batman merely snarled in response, "I do not cause harm to the civilians!"

"Neither would they. I take their responsibilities. You will never see them again in Gotham again. I swear. Just let them finish this job. We'll be off."

"And I am to take your word for it?"

"You have no other way. None of your fancy toys shall work against me. So why don't you," Hermione twisted her wrist to check the time, "wait for ten more minutes and then you'll see if my words stands or not."

Batman pulled out his stun gun and pressed the trigger but, like the woman before him said, it didn't work.

"What did you do with them?" he asked pointing out his gun.

"Electronic goods react with my…aura. They tend to go bad," she replied flippantly.

"Where will you take them?"

"Somewhere normal people can never find," Hermione smirked at him. She turned to face the last people standing and shouted, "Oi! We'll Portkey in few moments. Gather around." And she got and jumped off the building.

He saw that woman appear near her 'friends' and handed them something. Before he knew it, Batman found Poison Ivy, Catwoman -even Scarebeast- and that woman had disappeared from the place. The escaping prisoners were all contained in…cages while Harlequin and Joker were still on their joy ride. He did better take care of the present problem. He would deal with them later.

* * *

 **Diagon Alley, Magical Britain.**

A lazy afternoon in the magical Britain was blasted apart in chaos and clamour. There were monsters roaming the streets of the Diagon Alley. Literally, monsters. A monstrous scarecrow, a Devil's Snare like woman, a fairly normal cat…woman and—"

"Hermione?" the Auror, who had arrived after the alert was generated, stood dumbfounded.

The monsters all stopped their rampage for a moment. They stood right behind Hermione like her bodyguards.

"Miss me, Harry?"

* * *

 **Yes, I meant it to be open ended.**

 **Yes, some outtakes shall be posted as soon as they are done.**

 **Review if you please.**


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